


The Tale of Crossfire and the Hustler

by TheoreticallyEva



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Adventure, Crime, F/M, Love, Night Howlers, Romance, Roommates, Vigilante, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-03-13 21:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 52,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13579656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoreticallyEva/pseuds/TheoreticallyEva
Summary: Zootopia AU. Judy and Nick become roommates and co-workers at a diner. Unbeknownst to each other, they both lead secret lives outside the law—one as a vigilante and the other as a criminal with an agenda. What follows is a tangled web of secret identities with not-so-secret archenemies infused with VERY secret attractions. Complications ensue.





	1. We Don't Disappear

**Chapter 1—We Don't Disappear**

**A/N: This is probably the first of several multi-chapter Zootopia fan fictions that I plan to write eventually, but the only one in this alternate universe. I'm enjoying the crap out of it, though.**

**Special thanks to my awesome friends Camoss (a.k.a. Sir Dumbness Finder) and The StarsShadow15 for encouraging me and reviewing my work to make sure that I wouldn't embarrass myself before posting it. You should definitely check out their fan fictions "A Ray of Hope" and "The Faded Line," respectively. I also highly recommend them as friend material, so you should probably talk to them, too.**

**Also, just so you know, every chapter will begin with a few song lyrics that attempt to capture the mood or essence of an important moment in the chapter, if not the entire thing. Sometimes, the same song will be used more than once. In the last chapter, I'll make a list of the story's "soundtrack."**

**Updates will occur every weekend.**

**Enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer: Zootopia isn't mine. Don't remind me. *sigh***

* * *

_We are the children you reject and disregard._

_These aching cries come from the bottom of our hearts._

_You can't disown us now—_

_We're your own flesh and blood,_

_And we don't disappear_

_Just because your eyes are shut…_

— _"From Heads Unworthy," by Rise Against_

* * *

_Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 4:42 a.m._

* * *

"Nick!" Finnick's voice yelled into Nick's earpiece. "Time's up! Get out o' there!"

Sure enough, Nick heard the metallic sound of a canister hitting the floor, followed by the click of a door slamming shut. He straightened from where he was bent over the computer on the far wall and cursed. After snatching the USB drive from its port, he glanced quickly around the City Hall record room in which he stood, breathing heavily into his gas mask.  _Is there anything I'm forgetting?_

When his eyes fell on the blank white wall several feet to his right, he smirked.

Of course.

He whipped out a pen from his utility belt and hurriedly scribbled on the blank surface.  _"Courtesy of the Hustler_ , _"_ it read, along with a stick drawing of a fox face.

Nodding approvingly at his handiwork, he prayed that it wouldn't be too marred by the fire that would soon erupt.

" _Nick!_ " It was Finnick's voice again, sounding even more urgent.

Near Nick's feet, a small yellow light on the canister was rapidly blinking. Just a few seconds left. He stepped smoothly over it, flicking it playfully with his bushy tail while shoving his paws into the pockets of his ebony-colored slacks, his equally black button-up shirt flapping breezily with the movement. "Finnick, if I didn't know better, I'd say you cared about me," he said casually.

"I care about the flash drive in your filthy pocket, Wilde," the smaller foxed growled into Nick's earpiece. "If you don't have it, stay there and burn. I won't lose any sleep over it."

With a melodramatic sigh, Nick opened the door and slipped out of it, closing it just in time to hear and feel the canister's modest explosion inside. The scent of burning paper, melting plastics, and hot metal filled his nostrils, even through his gas mask. "And here I thought we really had something special, Finnick."

His friend only grunted.

Nick nodded in greeting at the darkly clad weasel leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed. Despite the gas mask covering the weasel's ugly face, Nick somehow knew that he was sneering. "What happened, Duke?" he asked. "Thought I still had another five minutes."

"Turns out one o' the guards managed to call the cops before the gas knocked 'im out," Duke explained nasally in his typical annoyed tone. "Heard 'em start poundin' the lobby doors, but Finnick's security deadlock is holdin' on for now. Only a matter o' time before they have a rhino charge through 'em."

Nick hummed. "Ah, well, thank you," he said as they took off running down the hall and toward the window at the far end. "You do remember that I carry my own explosives, though, right?"

"Wanted to make sure ya felt rushed," Duke replied matter-of-factly.

As they approached the window, Nick slipped a broken sparkplug from one of the pockets on his belt and chucked it at the glass, which shattered instantly and with a satisfying cleanliness that brought a smile to his face. He and Duke leapt out of it at the same moment, landing safely on the black van just a few feet below and then dropping themselves inside by way of the open sun roof. Finnick glowered at them from where he sat gripping the steering wheel and slammed his foot on the gas pedal the moment they plopped down in the three-mammal seat beside him. Nick had to admire the way his friend urged the vehicle to a high speed so rapidly without making the tires screech. It was handy, since the police wouldn't be able to find out anything about the tires from the marks that would have been left on the ground. Not that it would've been a big lead, but Nick preferred to err on the side of caution.

He and Duke removed their gas masks and tossed them into the open area in the back. Duke immediately took to watching the city pass them by outside the window, his face set in its default glaring expression. Nick, on the other hand, leaned back and stretched against his part of the seat—which happened to be the middle, situated between Duke and Finnick—with a wide yawn.

"Well, that one's done," he drawled.

"Where's the flash drive, Wilde?" Finnick demanded tersely.

Sighing, Nick bent himself at an awkward angle in order to rummage around in his pocket without elbowing the smaller fox. Soon, he produced the USB that he had taken from the records room. "It's all here, buddy. Justice is served," he said, not bothering to hide his self-congratulatory grin.

Finnick glanced briefly at the USB to confirm its existence but otherwise kept his eyes on the road. "Good," he said gruffly. "Keep it on ya for now."

"Will do," Nick said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes and make a sarcastic remark at the obvious advice.

A moment of companionable silence passed among the three predators before Duke spoke. "That was too close. We gotta be more careful. We're gaining a reputation now, which means they'll be watchin' for us everywhere."

"Let them watch," Nick replied. "Makes it easier to get our message across if they're paying close attention."

"I ain't goin' to  _jail_ for this, Wilde," Duke said snidely. "My life ain't that bad yet."

This was a conversation Nick didn't particularly feel like having, so he merely shrugged and let it drop.

The only sound for the rest of the trip was that of the van tearing through the air on its way to an alley between a bank and a bakery located in Sahara Square. It was a perfect fit for the van—almost a tight one—and it certainly provided welcome concealment from the few searching eyes that were open and awake at this time of day. Or night? Nick was never sure what to call it. It was still dark outside, but the light of dawn was starting to creep its way into the sky.

_Wait, sunlight?_

Eyes widening, Nick scrambled out of the van after Duke, retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, and glanced at the time. He muttered a curse when he saw that it read 5:15 a.m.

"I've got to get going," he stated, handing the USB to Finnick, who scowled but didn't appear surprised. "I'll be late for work."

"Duke and I will start lookin' it over," Finnick said. "Come over after you're done so we can discuss it."

Nick acknowledged his friend's words with a wave of his paw before scurrying away. His apartment wasn't very far away—just a few blocks, really—but he hadn't expected the hustle to take as long as it did, and he knew he'd be lucky to get to work any sooner than five minutes  _after_ the start of his shift.

By the time he had burst into his apartment, thrown on his uniform, rushed back out, and sprinted to the two-star restaurant called Pike's Place, it was 5:41 a.m.—eleven minutes after he was supposed to have clocked in.

There weren't a lot of mammals sitting at the tables yet, but there were enough to suggest that things would get busy quickly. Most of them were probably just getting off night shifts, or were about to begin early-morning ones, or they might have just been nocturnal mammals catching a nice meal before going to sleep. Hoping that it didn't make him look  _too_ unprofessional, Nick jogged lightly around the rim of the dining area—a posh, maroon-themed room dotted with ionic columns, generously cushioned chairs, and elaborately woven rugs—to reach the kitchen in the far back. He pushed through the doors as quietly as possible in an effort to draw minimal attention to himself and punched his employee code into the time clock just inside the entrance. The moment he turned to the apron rack, however, he was faced with a glowering zebra in a white chef's jacket and toque, arms crossed over his chest.

"You're late," the zebra said flatly. " _Again_."

"I know, I know," Nick admitted, ears folding back. "Sorry, Harold. My alarm didn't go off when it was supposed to—"

"There's always a reason with you, Wilde," Harold interrupted. "One day, you're going to run out of them." He gestured irritably at Nick's form. "In addition to inconveniencing your co-workers with your tardiness, your uniform clearly hasn't been washed recently, and your fur is unkempt. You're practically a walking health code violation."

Nick grimaced. "Well, I'm here now, and I'll do better—"

"Don't bother," Harold waved a hoof, and Nick's gut twisted. "I know you're a fox, but I still expect better from my employees. You don't seem interested in meeting Pike's Place's standards, so I've decided to find someone else who is."

Of course. Squeezing his eyes shut and hanging his head, Nick sighed. "All right, I get it." Harold said nothing more, so Nick just jabbed his employee code into the time clock again to signal the end of his short-lived shift. "I'll see myself out, then."

Without glancing back, Nick exited the kitchen and trudged through the dining area. None of the patrons studying the menus at their tables even seemed to notice him. He pushed against the restaurant's front doors, which felt heavier than usual, requiring more of his effort.

Once outside, Nick allowed himself a second to take a deep breath and admire the grayish-blue color of the sky as the sun continued slowly ambling upward. He rested his paws in his pockets and debated his next step. Now that he was unexpectedly free for the day, he could head back to Finnick's van and check out the contents of the flash drive with him and Duke. However, rent was due in a couple of weeks, he would need to buy more groceries soon, and finding a new job was always especially difficult for a fox—even one who was only looking for a position as a lowly cook.

His secret life of crime was a labor of love. He still needed to pay the bills. Also, having a legitimate job helped keep him off the police's radar. The sooner he got started finding new work, the better.

Mind made up, Nick headed home to properly clean himself up and check out open cook positions online. Then he dressed in a green Hawaiian-print button-up shirt with a striped tie and sand-colored slacks—the sort of fashion choice that often earned him some teasing or even scorn, but hey, he'd landed jobs dressed this way before.

He was in out within a couple of hours. With a list of hiring restaurants and a few copies of his résumé, he started off down the street outside his apartment complex toward the nearest prospective employer, whistling merrily to himself.

* * *

_Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 11:35 a.m._

* * *

No longer whistling, Nick heaved an exhausted sigh as he walked toward the doors of Basic Instinct, a quaint diner known for catering to both prey and predators using simple meals with simple recipes made from quality ingredients. He'd eaten here a couple times himself and found the food to be pretty decent, which meant it was delicious by the standards of most mammals. This would be a nice place to work.

Assuming they could get past his species, of course. Unlike every other restaurant he'd visited so far that day.

Steeling himself, Nick pasted his most charming smile onto his face, pushed the door open, and sauntered inside.

He studied his surroundings. The diner was several decades old but in good shape and tastefully decorated, featuring a clean black-and-white checkered floor and artificial flower vines artfully hung along the rims of the white walls. It took him a moment to realize that the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling were shaped like open upside-down tulips with shining lightbulbs set in the middle, which he rather liked. Light, cheerful music played over the speakers, but it was a song Nick didn't recognize.

The kitchen was situated close to the dining area, lined with faux leather booths and small tables with faux leather chairs, an open serving counter allowing the patrons to see the cooks working busily behind it. Nick wondered which one was the manager, if any of them. He took a step forward to ask but noticed a sign reading  _"PLEASE WAIT HERE"_  directly in front of him. He looked around, but no host was waiting next to it.

Although it wasn't quite time for the lunch rush, there was still a respectable crowd of mammals sitting in the various booths, chatting and enjoying their food. The servers were easy to find; the males all wore white polo shirts with tan slacks while the females were donned in cute, knee-length, short-sleeved white dresses. All of them had black pocketed aprons and notepads. They scurried from table to table, and he tried to catch their eyes by craning and waving half-heartedly, but they were all too focused on their customers to look his way.

Nick waited awkwardly for a moment, trying to decide what to do, when a gray bunny waitress—a very pretty one, he couldn't help thinking—glanced up from her notepad as she was shuffling by the diner's entrance on her way toward the kitchen. She smiled genially at him, and Nick grinned back, but only because he noticed that the pen she was using was shaped like a gigantic carrot. Her nametag read  _"Judy."_

"Have you been helped, sir?" Judy asked brightly, and Nick admitted to himself that her warm violet eyes were quite striking.

"No, but I'm actually just here to see a manager," he explained, indicating the résumé in his paw.

"Oh, sure!" Judy chirped. "Follow me." As she led him toward the kitchen door—down a hall off the dining area and opposite another door that read " _OFFICE_ "—she smiled over her shoulder at him, but he noticed how her nose twitched a bit anxiously. "It's great that you're applying! We could really use the help."

Nick only nodded, maintaining his easy smile. Judy left the kitchen door open after she went inside, but Nick decided to wait just outside of it while she spoke with a surly-looking middle-aged goat who was stirring something in a pot of the industrial stove. They exchanged a few words—Judy's tone remaining amiable while the goat's was rather terse—until they both turned around to look at him. The goat narrowed his eyes and dropped his ladle in the pot to walk toward the door. His nametag sported the name  _"Yannis."_

"You want to apply?" he queried gruffly.

"Yes, sir," Nick replied, handing over his résumé. The goat began perusing it immediately. "As you can see, I've had extensive experience cooking for numerous restaurants—"

"Most of your stints are rather short-lived," Yannis commented as he peered at Nick's work history. "Makes you look like a typical unreliable fox." He raised a skeptical brow at Nick. "Are you unreliable, Mr. Wilde?"

A conversation similar to this one had already happened several times that day. Resisting the urge to sigh and just leave right then and there, Nick shook his head. "Not at all, sir. Unexpected circumstances forced me to leave each of those jobs, but I'm good at what I do."

Yannis only glared suspiciously at him for a moment. Finally, he shoved the résumé at Nick's chest.

"I'm afraid we don't have any room on our team for a fox," he stated coolly. "Sorry things didn't work out."

Well, at least the rejection came quickly this time. Unable to stop his shoulders from slumping forward a little, Nick fought to keep smiling as he nodded. "Well, thanks for your—"

" _Yannis!_ " a voice inside the kitchen exclaimed. "Are you  _serious_?"

The goat half-turned to regard Judy, who stood with her fists propped on her cocked hips and a stern look on her face. Nick had actually forgotten that she was still there.

"What are you talking about?" Yannis queried.

"I'm talking about you turning him away just because he's a fox," the bunny answered. "That's specieist, and I  _will_  report you for it."

"Quite a threat coming from someone who hasn't even worked here for a  _week_ ," Yannis sneered. "No one answers to you, bunny. Leave this to management, or you may be leaving this diner  _with_  him."

"Ah, now you're threatening  _my_  job for calling you out?" Judy shifted her weight onto her other leg. "I'm sure Brady and Lila will be a bit disturbed to hear that."

At that, Yannis fully faced her and crossed his arms. "Look here, bunny, I've been here for close to ten years. You've been here for six days. Who do you think they're going to listen to?"

"Good question," Judy said as she tapped her lip with an exaggerated look of thought on her face. "Let's ask my old friend, Yannis-from-eight-seconds-ago."

Then, with half-lidded, self-satisfied smirk, she pulled her carrot pen out of the pocket of her apron and pressed a little button that played back Yannis's voice. " _Leave this to management, or you may be leaving this diner with him,_ " he was saying.

The goat's mouth fell open, and Nick's own eyes widened. He had to fight the temptation to grin. This was an interesting little bunny.

Several moments passed in which the only sounds were the dulled din of conversation from the customers, sizzling grills, and chuckles of the other two cooks—a sheep and an otter—who, up until that point, had been trying to pretend that they weren't paying attention to what was happening.

Finally, Yannis turned back toward Nick, his scowl barely betraying his fury. "Well, can you cook, or can't you?"

"Yes, I can cook anything," Nick replied, now trying in vain to hide his amusement.

"Then prove it," the goat snarled, whirling to snatch an apron from a rack just inside the kitchen and tossing it at Nick. "I'll give you a trial run this afternoon. If you cook everything without a problem, you can stay. If you can't, don't show your face here again, you hear me?"

"Absolutely, sir," Nick nodded.

"Bunny!" Yannis snapped as he spun around. "Clock out. Time for your break before the lunch rush. You—" He pointed at Nick. "You'll start when she clocks back in."

"My name is Judy, you know, not  _bunny_ ," Judy said dryly as she began untying her apron.

"I know," Yannis said simply yet snidely. The moment Judy left the kitchen, the goat slammed the door shut. A few of the customers jumped, but no one commented on it.

"Well," Judy grinned up at Nick as she slung her apron over her forearm. "Care to join me? I'm Judy Hopps, by the way," she added as she extended her paw, apparently forgetting that her nametag had already revealed half of that information to him.

He dipped his head graciously at her and accepted her paw, shaking it gently. "Nick Wilde."

* * *

_Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 11:54 p.m._

* * *

"Sorry about Yannis's behavior," Judy was saying as she stirred her vegetable soup. She had offered Nick her sandwich, but he politely turned it down, and he was now sitting across from her in a booth at the far corner of the diner, his back pressed against the window and his legs sprawled across his seat as he watched her eat. "It's just—I can't believe some mammals still have such awful attitudes toward foxes. It's just inexcusable nowadays. We should know better by now, right?"

"Sure," Nick replied casually, but he noticed the twinge of nervousness that passed over her face when her eyes fell on his claws, and he could smell just a hint of fear coming from her small form. She wasn't as prejudiced as other mammals, but she clearly still had some issues, and it rankled him. Mammals who tried to pretend like they held no biases were sometimes more frustrating than the ones who were open about them. He was tempted to bare his teeth at her, just to knock her down a few pegs, but—well, she  _had_ helped him get a job, or at least a trial afternoon, so he decided to let it slide. For now. "I'm used to it, though," was all he said.

Judy's face fell into an expression of sympathy before she took sipped up a spoonful of soup. "That's a sad thing to be used to," she said quietly, and Nick was a bit surprised to find that she seemed sincere. She soon perked up, though. "I hope you do well this afternoon! You seem like a nice guy, and like I said, we could really use the help. The cooks have been struggling ever since Randol disappeared."

That caught Nick's attention. He raised an eyebrow. "Disappeared?"

"Yeah," Judy nodded, suddenly looking worried. "Randol had been a cook here for a few years, but he suddenly went missing just a couple days after I started working here. The police haven't had any luck finding leads."

"How surprising," Nick mumbled sarcastically. Judy shot him a look that was somewhere between questioning and irritated, but it soon passed, and she resumed eating. "So what kind of mammal is he?"

"He's a bobcat," Judy answered with a sigh. "And one of the sweetest mammals I've ever met. I hope he's okay."

Nick nodded, mentally filing the information away for later use. His gaze fell on a framed 8x10 photograph on the wall across from their booth. It displayed a dark-haired lion and modestly pretty antelope arm-in-arm, both middle-aged and smiling proudly. The caption on the plate at the bottom of the frame read, " _Brady and Lila Maneford: Owners of Basic Instinct._ " He tilted his head curiously. They appeared to be married. A romantic relationship between a predator and a prey wasn't necessarily  _strange_ , at least not in Zootopia, but it  _was_ uncommon.

The sound of Judy's light slurping made Nick look at her again, and he watched her for a moment. "So what brought you to this little diner?" he asked conversationally. "Got a passion for waitressing?"

For just a second, Judy's ever-present smile faltered. "No, but it's a job, and I needed one, especially since I still haven't found a permanent place to stay. Actually," she said excitedly, "I wanted to become involved with some mammal rights groups. There are lots of great causes to get involved in, but I'm especially interested in helping convince Mayor Lionheart to pass the Mammal Inclusion Initiative. That way, I can become a police officer!"

It took all of Nick's years of experience as a criminal to keep his poker face from shattering into boisterous laughter. He stared at the bunny with a carefully neutral expression, although he allowed a tiny smirk to cross his lips. "Really? You want to be a police officer?"

"It's been my dream all my life," Judy sighed, resting her cheek in one paw. "I feel like that's the best way for me to make the world a better place."

 _Make the world a better place? Have I stepped into an after-school special?_ Nick snickered internally. After taking a moment to compose himself, he said, "But you do realize that even if the Mammal Inclusion Initiative passes, the chances of you actually becoming a police officer are still pretty slim, right?"

For the first time since he'd met her twenty or thirty minutes ago, Nick saw Judy's face harden. "Excuse me?" she queried with just a hint of ice in her tone.

"I mean, large mammals make the best police officers for a reason," Nick continued. "Several reasons, in fact."

"So what are you saying?" Judy sat back and folded her arms tightly. "Are you an expert in what a bunny can or can't be?"

"Not exactly, but I'm an expert in understanding that everybody has limitations," Nick shrugged. "And I think police work is pretty far out of a bunny's league. You should stick to something realistic for you. Waitressing is a good start. There's also office work or farming."

The last idea seemed to strike a nerve. Judy visibly stiffened before leaning forward to point her finger sternly at him. " _No one_ tells me what I can or can't be. I  _will_  become a police officer, and maybe  _you_  will actually have a steady cooking job by then."

It wasn't a bad jab, Nick thought, but she was clearly not accustomed to insulting other mammals. He smirked at her again. "Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"

They finished her break in silence—stony on Judy's part, apathetic on Nick's.

* * *

_Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 12:30 p.m._

* * *

As Judy was clocking back in, Nick tied his cooking apron around his torso and washed his paws. When he entered the kitchen, the sheep and otter—Greg and Andy, respectively, according to their nametags, and both somewhere in their twenties—smiled amiably and nodded, but Yannis only deigned to glower at him for a moment. After Andy gave him a quick rundown of where to find everything, Nick was given charge of the grill, which was directly behind the service counter.

That happened to put him next to Greg, who was doing prep work. As Nick examined the order slips hanging above the service counter and slapped some bug burger patties onto the grill, Greg busied himself slicing one after another of the vegetables piled high at the side of his station. The two made small chit-chat for a little while before Judy came up to the counter to drop off another order slip. Nick couldn't help smirking at how determined she looked as she avoided eye contact with him.

He nodded toward her as she scampered over to a couple of her customers who had called her name. "How much you want to bet Carrots over there just moved here from Bunnyburrow?" he asked Greg.

Greg raised his eyebrows and stopped moving his knife. "Carrots?" he repeated. "Why Carrots?"

"Because she carries around a carrot pen bigger than her own arm, and because—like I said—she's from Bunnyburrow, which is full of carrot farmers," Nick explained confidently.

Shrugging, Greg turned back to slicing vegetables. "I haven't talked to her much, but I don't know if she's from Bunnyburrow. Why would you say that?"

"She's naïve, she talked about needing a place to stay, and she seemed upset when I suggested she become a farmer," Nick replied, holding up a finger for each piece of evidence.

"Maybe it upset her because she's  _not_ from Bunnyburrow and doesn't appreciate strangers making assumptions about her," Greg suggested.

"Well, we can find out," said Nick. "Want to bet on it?"

Greg gave him a sidelong glance. "I don't know."

"Aren't you a betting sheep?" Nick leaned toward him, grinning conspiratorially. "Or am I mistaken about the meaning of those poker chips on your keychain?"

Eyes widening, Greg glanced at his keys dangling from his back pocket. "Uh—that's not—it's not—I mean—" he stammered, then sighed and chuckled. "Okay, you got me. You want to encourage my bad habits?"

"It's just a small bet," Nick assured him. "Five bucks."

Greg nodded, amused. "You're on. Here's your chance."

Nick swiveled his head to find Judy approaching quickly, her face schooled with an indifferent expression. Nick leaned across the counter, laying his chin in one palm and offering her a suave smile.

"Hey, Nick, table four wants a side of beets," she said matter-of-factly.

"Carrots—"

"No, beets."

"No, I'm calling  _you_ Carrots."

"Why are you calling me Carrots?!"

"Because I can."

"No, you can't!"

"Carrots, can I ask you something?"

"Can you give me the beets?"

Rolling his eyes, Nick grabbed some sliced beets from Greg's station and dumped them into a small bowl, which he slid across the service counter.

"Thank you," Judy quipped primly as she snatched it up and hurried away before he could say anything else.

"Hey, wait!" Nick exclaimed, but she ignored him, and he scowled at her retreating form. The whole exchange had taken place in a matter of seconds.

Beside him, Greg was laughing quietly to himself. "Nice."

"This doesn't mean you win," Nick informed the sheep.

"I know, I know."

While grilling, Nick kept a careful eye on Judy, willing her to come back to the counter, but all of her tables already had food. She was busy cleaning off empty ones, setting out silverware, seating new customers, and chatting jovially with everyone. In the back of Nick's mind, he recognized that he liked how animated she was, but he was mostly focused on making sure that he was prepared for when she came back. It was inevitable, after all. In the meantime, he interacted as minimally as possible with the other servers when they came over with their order slips, though they didn't seem to care.

Finally, some of the new customers at one of her tables had decided on their orders, which she wrote down with that comically large carrot pen. As soon as she was within earshot, he called out, "Hey, Carrots!"

Judy shot him a quick glare, then looked away and lifted her chin proudly. Having left her order slip, she turned back to the dining area.

"Wait, I just want to know if you're from Bunnyburrow!" Nick rushed out.

She pivoted to face him, a quizzical expression on her face. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Nick shrugged.

"'Just curious'? Is that why you're acting so desperate to know?" Judy arched her brow at him, one paw resting on her hip.

Nick smiled genuinely at her. He could appreciate an observant mammal. "I like getting to know my co-workers."

"Well, you're not officially my co-worker yet,  _Slick_ ," she said, using her tongue to exaggerate the consonants of the nickname she had just given him. Nick's smile grew wider. "But if you  _must_ know, yes, I'm from Bunnyburrow."

"Oh, really," Nick replied casually, suppressing a triumphant grin as he heard Greg curse under his breath. "I've heard it's a nice place. Lots of carrot farmers."

Judy nodded curtly, but she didn't seem interested in continuing the conversation, so she turned and headed toward another table where she had just seated new customers a little while earlier.

Forcing his grin to remain casual, Nick moved away from the grill to lean on Greg's station with his elbow. He waited.

With an exasperated sigh, Greg reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, produced a five-dollar bill, and slapped it into Nick's open palm.

Behind them, Nick heard Andy snigger while Yannis grunted.

* * *

_Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 5:32 p.m._

* * *

The sun was gradually descending behind the horizon, painting the sky in shades of azure and sherbet. It would still be several hours before darkness would fall, but the warm late spring air was already starting to cool.

Having stepped away from the grill and hung his apron, Nick stretched and yawned as the evening crew started taking over the duties.

Yannis was giving instructions to an ewe cook who kept exchanging flirty glances with Greg when the goat's back was turned. Nick amused himself watching from the back of the kitchen for a few moments before spotting Judy walk into the office across the hall from the kitchen door. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to follow her, but knowing that he had real reason to entertain it, he soon shook it off. Besides, most of their interactions that day had been short and a bit taciturn on her part; there was nothing to indicate that she'd welcome his company.

Soon, Yannis turned his attention to Nick, and he hurriedly pushed aside his thoughts of the bunny. Standing straighter and donning a pleasant but easygoing expression, he waited to hear the verdict.

The goat allowed several seconds of contemplative silence to pass between them as he eyed Nick from head to toe. Finally, he sighed. "Can you work the day shift Tuesday through Saturday?"

"Absolutely," Nick answered, his heartbeat picking up pace.

With a single firm nod, Yannis began removing his own apron. "Then you start tomorrow. We'll fill out the paperwork in the morning and make sure you get paid for the hours you put in today. Be here at eight-thirty. No later."

Internally pumping his fist, Nick held out a paw for Yannis to shake. "Sounds great, sir! Thank you so much for the opportunity."

Yannis sniffed and ignored Nick's paw, stepping away to hang up his apron wordlessly. Shrugging, Nick followed him out of the kitchen and started heading toward the front door. He glanced back when he heard the office door open and Judy apologize for being in Yannis's way. As she strode down the hall, her eyes were trained on her purse, searching for something as she dug around. Finally, she pulled out her phone, uttering a small "Aha!" Then she looked up and paused when she saw Nick staring.

He tried to make the situation feel less awkward by giving her a friendly smile. "Looks like we're officially co-workers now, so I can ask you all the personal questions I want to, right?" he teased.

"Congratulations," Judy said stiffly, shuffling past him and out the door.

Nick was right behind her, but just as he was turning in the opposite direction from where she was going, his sharp eyes noticed her thumbing through apartment rental ads and stopping on one featuring his own. He tilted his head curiously. "That one's mine," he said before he could think better of it.

Blinking in surprise, Judy glanced back at him over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Uh," Nick faltered, rubbed the back of his neck, then pointed at her phone. "That apartment. That's mine." Now to come up for a reason why he'd even bring it up. "It's not really that great a complex. Incompetent management, unresponsive maintenance crew—don't bother with it."

"Well, it's got to be better than…" She trailed off and suddenly started scrutinizing him closely, brows furrowed. "Wait, so you're looking for a roommate?"

"My  _landlady_ is looking for a roommate  _for_ me," Nick replied with a scowl. "She doesn't trust me to be able to pay the rent by myself." Then he sighed heavily and muttered, "Of course, I've never missed a payment, but hey, what can you do?"

Judy took a step toward him. "Can she actually  _force_ you to get a roommate?"

"She's hoping to  _strongly encourage_ me," Nick clarified. "But I'm—"

"Can I be your roommate?"

The question almost made Nick jump backward in shock. His eyes bulged as he stared at the bunny in front of him, whose face betrayed no hint of a joke.

" _Why_ would you want to be my roommate?" Nick blurted.

"Well, I'm still looking for an apartment," Judy shrugged. "I only moved to Zootopia last week, and I've been staying in a hotel, but every night there costs almost as much as I make in a day here. I  _really_ need a place. And this way, we can split the cost, which is good for both of us, right?"

"I thought you didn't even like me," Nick responded, a bit surprised at himself for even mentioning it. Still, this sudden turnaround in her attitude toward him was a bit suspicious to his mind.

She looked a little ashamed when he brought it up, hunching her shoulders and flicking her gaze away for a moment. "Well, I was mad at you for what you said about how I couldn't become a police officer, but…" Then she shrugged. "I still think that you seem nice enough. I'm sure we'd get along." Her eyes were huge and pleading, and Nick remembered admiring them when he first saw her. "Please?"

Scratching the fur on his neck, Nick looked to his side at the setting sun. He preferred living alone, honestly, and he had felt lucky that he got an affordable two-bedroom apartment all to himself, but she had a point—sharing the cost of rent would certainly be helpful. That way, he could put more money toward his work as the Hustler.

Ah, therein lay another complication. Could he keep his second life a secret from her? Well, he supposed he could. It wasn't like he went out every night, and he could always come up with some reason for it. Hiding his equipment wouldn't be difficult, either; he already used a compartment that he had carved out in his closet for that. Not that he thought there would ever be a reason for her to enter his room, but it was good to be prepared, just in case.

He also reluctantly reminded himself that she had been instrumental in helping him get a job, which meant he owed her.

Besides, she didn't seem so bad.

Letting his paw drop from his neck to his side, he turned his head back to Judy. Her eyes were still locked on him, sincere and full of hope. They made his chest feel uncomfortably soft.

But there was still one more thing Nick had to know.

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind living with a  _fox_?" he queried, watching her intently.

She hesitated, and only when her scent became tainted with a tiny smattering of fear did Nick realize that she hadn't been afraid up until that point. "What does that have to do with anything?" she asked innocently.

Nick raised an eyebrow at her, but her fear gradually dissipated, and then all he could catch was her natural scent—something floral, fresh, and earthy, although he couldn't pick out all the separate components.

Well, maybe this could work.

"All right, then," he sighed. "Let's stop by your hotel and get your stuff."

He winced when Judy squealed and clapped her paws together. "Oh, thank you, thank you,  _thank you_ , Nick!" Soon, she was bouncing around excitedly, and Nick felt tired just observing her energy. It was especially remarkable considering she had just finished an eight-hour shift spent mostly on her feet.

As he stared in consternation, she started bounding away toward the nearest crosswalk, waving at him to follow. "Come on, let's go!"

* * *

_Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 6:46 p.m._

* * *

"Oh, Nick, it's not nearly as bad as you made it sound," Judy said cheerily as she strode into Nick's apartment. "Actually, I think it's nice."

She was dragging a single piece of luggage behind her while carrying one small box, which she set down in the middle of the living room. Nick was balancing  _three_ boxes, and he stumbled after her, too busy trying to stay upright to respond immediately to her observation. Grunting with the effort, he bent to place them carefully next to the first one, Judy stepping in to steady them when it looked like they would fall.

Straightening and stretching, Nick stepped to the switch by the doorframe, turned it on, and took a hard look around himself. He supposed it was all right, when all was said and done. A long rectangular window directly to the left of the front door was letting in the first hints of moonlight as the day continued to ebb away. The spacious living room—which was modestly furnished with a couch against the wall adjacent to the front door, a coffee table in front of the couch, and a couple of standing lamps—opened to a small kitchen separated on one side by a wall. Between the wall where the living room ended and the kitchen began was a tiny hallway, where the doors to the two bedrooms could be found, the bathroom situated between them. The pale blue carpets were all a bit stained, and the tiles in the kitchen and bathroom were just boring crisscrossing squares, but everything was intact. An apartment like this would cost far beyond his means in most parts of the city, but as it happened, it was located in a dubious area, so he enjoyed having all the space at such a great rate.

Well, he  _had_ enjoyed it.

He looked toward Judy and returned her genial smile, hoping he was doing well at hiding his slight uneasiness. "Well, once the novelty wears off, I'm sure you'll get as tired of it as I am."

"Doubt it!" Judy chirped as she started rummaging through one of her boxes. In a moment, she produced some ceramic dinner plates trimmed with tiny depictions of vegetables and made her way to the kitchen, humming to herself.

Nick glanced down at the luggage and assumed that it was filled with more personal belongings. He grabbed the handle and pulled it across the kitchen floor. Judy looked up as he passed her; he gestured toward the bedroom to the left of the bathroom. "This one will be yours, Carrots."

It looked like she was about to thank him, but when he mentioned her nickname, she pinned him with a sardonic expression instead. "Are you really going to keep calling me that?"

"Oh, definitely," Nick grinned obnoxiously at her. She rolled her eyes, and he continued. "Anyway, it doesn't have a bed or anything, sorry. You'll have to buy whatever you need."

"No problem," Judy said.

As he set the luggage against the wall of her empty bedroom, Nick felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that he had a text from Finnick.

" _You still comin?_ " it read.

The USB!

Nick smacked his own face before composing his reply. " _Sorry, got held up. I'll be right there._ "

After going to his own room and quietly removing his duffle bag from the secret compartment in his closet, he stepped into the kitchen. Judy shot him another smile and pointed toward a cupboard that she had just opened. It was filled with random glass cups and plastic bowls. "Do you mind if I organize this and put some of my dishes in there?"

"Do you what you've got to do," Nick waved a paw dismissively. "But, uh, I've got to head out. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sounds good," she replied before turning to face him fully and grasping both her paws in front of her chest. "And thank you again,  _so much_. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

Chest warming, Nick nodded and smirked as casually as he could. "Don't mention it, Carrots." Then he paused and pretended to think hard for a moment. "Actually, please do mention it. Every day. It's good for my ego."

Judy laughed. Nick realized it was the first time he'd heard her do it, and he liked the way it sounded.

"I'll see what I can do," she promised when her mirth had subsided.

Then she turned back to making space for her dishes. With a final worried glance at her, Nick held his breath, walked out of the apartment, and let it out only when he was halfway down the hall.

* * *

_Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 6:55 p.m._

* * *

When she heard the apartment door shut, Judy leaned around the kitchen wall to make sure that Nick was really gone. There was no sign of him. Admittedly, the fox was intriguing—if frustrating—and she was genuinely curious to know him better. For now, though, it could wait.

She hastily put away the remainder of her dishes and decided the rest of the boxes could just sit for a while. Whirling around and bouncing into her new bedroom, she glanced around quickly for her luggage and zipped it open eagerly. From it, she retrieved a full-body black spandex suit with a depiction of two bright red bullets crossing each other's paths squarely on the chest, leaving trails of fire behind them. Eyeing the right leg, she noted that she just needed to repair a popped seam, and then it should be good to go. With no one around to hear her, she squealed delightedly and hugged it against her chest.

After locating her sewing tools, she set to work putting the last touches on the costume, then undressed and pulled it over her body. Yanking the fabric over her fingers and feet was a bit tricky, but doable. Overall, the suit fit like a glove and wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as she'd feared.

Next, she dug in her luggage until she found her matching black spandex mask, which she had even designed with coverings for her ears. The expensive material that she had bought for this suit was supposed to hide any mammal's scent, but that would be pointless if her ears weren't covered. It might impair her hearing a bit, but she could deal with that.

All she had to do with this was attach the orange plastic eye guard over its single opening. It should protect her in addition to obscuring the color of her eyes, which were one of her unique features and would certainly make her too easy to identify to anyone who got close enough to her.

With more thread and a bit of glue, it didn't take her long to complete the mask. Gingerly, she tugged it over her head. It took a minute or two for her to get her ears comfortable, and as she suspected, the material did muffle her hearing a bit, but it wasn't enough to make a huge difference. The plastic eye guard worked like a charm, too. She could see just fine out of it, and when she looked into the mirror in the bathroom, she hardly recognized herself.

Just one problem—her tail. There just wasn't a practical way for her to cover it up. For that, though, she had a bottle of musk mask, which she sprayed copiously onto the little bit of fluff.

Now all that was left was her utility belt.  _Accessories make the outfit, after all,_ she thought to herself, snickering at her own corny joke.

She plucked the belt from her luggage and buckled it around her waist. Making sure every pocket was filled with the things that she needed—smoke pellets, fox repellent, tranquilizer darts (for which she had no gun but could still stab into someone), small pieces of rope, two pocket knives, some bandages and gauze, just in case—she nodded in satisfaction to herself. It would have to do until she could spend money on more and better equipment. Of course, that should be easier now that she finally had a home and didn't have to keep paying for a hotel.

It occurred to her then that she had no idea where Nick went and that he could come back at any moment. Better get out of here.

Heaving a sigh to steel her nerves, Judy went to her bedroom, opened her window, and noted with relief that the apartment wasn't so high up that jumping down would be too dangerous for her. She hadn't thought to check and make sure that there would be a safe way for her to leave before she asked to be Nick's roommate.

As she was surveying the distance between the window and the ground, she heard her phone ringing, half-buried in the pile of her clothes that she left on the floor. She recognized the song; it was her parents. Well, she knew what kind of conversation they wanted to have—how was she doing? Why was she in Zootopia? Was she safe? Couldn't she just accept that she would never be a cop? Couldn't she just live out her life like a normal bunny?

Clenching her jaw, she turned away. They could wait.

After bracing herself and swallowing her trepidation, she leaped down, tucking and rolling as soon as she hit the ground. Immediately, she turned her gaze around her surroundings to make sure no one had seen her. There wasn't a single soul or pair of eyes around.

Smiling proudly to herself, she set off down the street. Tonight marked the dawn of the age of Crossfire, who would make the world a better place—all alone, if necessary.

* * *

**Random A/N: Because I suspect someone might ask, yes, Pike's Place is sort of a reference to Pike Place Market in Seattle, but no, I'm not from Seattle. I've visited it, but I've never lived there. I just thought Pike's Place sounded like a nice restaurant name.**

**Also, I modeled Nick's apartment after the first one I had when I returned to college after several years away. The only difference is that his has two bedrooms, whereas I had only one, which I shared with two roommates. Just an interesting tidbit.**


	2. The Race We Run

**Chapter 2—The Race We Run**

**A/N: Nothing interesting to say at the moment other than thanks for the warm welcome. Hope you enjoy chapter two. :)**

* * *

_This is the family that we crossed or never had._ _  
_ _This is a war that was lost the day it began,_ _  
_ _'Cause it's the race we run, but it keeps us at the start,_ _  
_ _And it's the song I sung from the bottom of my heart…_

—" _From Heads Unworthy," by Rise Against_

* * *

 _Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 7:25 p.m._

* * *

The back door of the van slammed open. Finnick glared down at Nick. " 'Bout time."

"I'm sorry," Nick said sincerely. "Things got… complicated today."

Finnick raised a questioning a brow as he stood aside so that Nick could clamber up. "Complicated?"

"Lost my job, had to find a new one," Nick explained, tossing his duffle bag to the side. He almost mentioned his new roommate as well, but it occurred to him that it might make his friends uneasy to know that a stranger was suddenly living with the brains of their operation. That would lead to an argument that he really wasn't in the mood to have, so he left that part out.

"And did you find one?" Finnick inquired.

"Yep," Nick answered simply. Then he spotted Duke lounging against the back of the front seat, a can of beer in his paw and laptop on his legs. They greeted each other with curt nods, and then Nick looked back at Finnick, who was swinging the van door shut. "What did you find on the USB?"

At that, Finnick granted him one of his rare smiles. "Everythin' seems to be there. We can present the files at the next Den o' Thieves meetin' and figure out what to do from there."

"Did anything come up in the news? I haven't had a chance to check it today."

Finnick shrugged. "All that the media reported was that a fire broke out at City Hall this mornin'. I'm sure they don't anyone knowin' the details."

"Of course," Nick smirked, though it quickly gave way to a more hardened expression. "Let's see them try to keep all those predators falsely imprisoned without their records."

Sighing, Finnick reached into the cooler at one side of the van and offered Nick a can of beer, which he accepted. "It's not like they'll just release 'em, but at least we've shown 'em that we won't stand for the abuse anymore."

Nick nodded in agreement, settled himself next to Duke, and peered at the laptop screen. Duke was scrolling through the files of hundreds of predators who'd been accused and convicted of various crimes without sufficient evidence. It had taken months to gather all the information that they needed, but once they had it, they'd put their plan to make a statement into action—stealing the electronic files, deleting them from the computer system, and destroying the paper ones. As long as they didn't have a techie savvy enough to recover the deleted files, all those predators would get to start with a blank slate—once they could leave prison, anyway.

That reminded Nick that it was time to start formulating the next plan. He set his beer on the floor and rubbed his paws together. "So what do you think we should do now? I still think a prison break is a good idea, as long as it's tightly controlled. It should be possible to only break out the innocent predators. We can leave the rest."

"Always gettin' ahead o' yourself, Wilde," Duke sneered. "We gotta consult with the senior Thieves first."

With a displeased grimace, Nick grabbed his beer and took a swig. "Well, when is the next meeting anyway? I haven't heard anything for a while."

Duke shrugged. "Dunno. Probably soon."

Squinting and letting his head fall back against the seat behind him, Nick took a moment to think as Finnick opened his own can of beer and sat down next to him. He broke the silence after about a minute. "Have you heard about the missing mammals?"

Finnick looked at him quizzically after taking a big gulp of beer. "Missing mammals?"

"Yeah," Nick affirmed. "I've heard a comment or two about them over the last couple of weeks. Today, I found out that one of the cooks at the diner where I was hired went missing a few days ago, which is why they needed to fill the position."

"Diner, huh?" Finnick remarked. "Which one?"

"Basic Instinct."

Sticking out his lower lip in an impressed expression, Finnick nodded approvingly. "That's a good one."

"Yep," Nick agreed, taking another sip of beer. "Anyway, all the missing mammals are predators, and the ZPD apparently isn't doing too well at finding them." He paused as both of his friends huffed knowingly, then let a mischievous smile creep across his face. "So what do you say we help them out a little and do their jobs  _for_ them?"

* * *

 _Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 9:03 p.m._

* * *

Grunting and rolling her shoulder, Judy walked slowly down an alleyway in Savanna Central. The self-defense classes she had taken and martial arts Ewetube videos she had watched religiously were certainly paying off, but she still had so much to learn. There was a sizeable bruise on her ribs that she would be nursing for a while, and it had been totally avoidable. Still, she had to smirk when she thought of the hyena purse snatcher and hog sexual harasser she had already incapacitated and left for the police to find.

Letting out a tired breath, she leaned against the brick wall of the alley and slid to the ground. Just a five-minute break. That was all she would take, and then she'd get back out there. She closed her eyes.

The sound of glass crashing mixed with alarmed yelling startled her eyes back open.  _Never mind_ , she thought with a sigh, jumping up and sprinting toward the source of the commotion. Her heart froze for a moment when she found it.

The ZPD, Precinct One.

Since her childhood, it had been the workplace of her dreams, denied to her simply because of her species. The revolving front doors and windows had been shattered, and she could see officers running around inside, shouting orders at each other as gunfire rang out from multiple directions. But that wasn't the reason why she stepped back for a moment. No, the doubts that she had been taught to harbor suddenly came down on her like a deluge. The reason why those police officers were in there and she was not was because she was a bunny. They could handle this. She wasn't needed.

Then her sensitive ears picked up someone screaming, "Officer down!" That was all it took for her to ball up her fists, a burst of courage, determination, and maybe even a smidgen of smugness rocketing her forward.

Bounding inside, Judy immediately surveyed her surroundings. In an instant, she processed the cracked tiles where stray bullets must have hit them, the frantic (and  _very_ rotund) cheetah receptionist calling for help on the communicator, the shrill sound of alarms, the tigress officer bleeding from her side on the floor, the wolf officer keeping her calm while putting pressure on the wound, and a few more officers raising their tranquilizer guns at a ferociously arguing trio of mammals jumping on top of the receptionist's desk, dressed head to toe in black turtleneck sweaters, gloves, boots, and utility belts with numerous pockets and pouches. Their ears were pressed flat on their heads under ski masks, eyes protected by colored goggles. Small gray boxes with speakers held against their mouths with straps around their heads crackled, distorting their voices. Like Judy, every inch of their bodies was concealed except for their tails, from which she could tell one was a jumpy weasel who was being severely remonstrated by a red fox and a fennec fox. They were all brandishing pistols— _very_ illegal in Zootopia—and the fennec was keeping one trained on the cheetah to discourage the other officers from firing at them. Despite the tense situation, the foxes were both gesturing heatedly at the gun in the weasel's paws.

Before Judy could focus on what they were saying, they suddenly swung around and pointed their guns at the police officers who were screaming orders to drop them. The weasel lunged forward wildly, planting a few more bullets in the tile and provoking the officers to leap backwards, cursing vehemently. The fennec fox hung his head in a show of exasperation while the red fox muttered something and then darted toward the stairs leading to the basement, carrying a dark gray briefcase with him. The officers frantically aimed their tranquilizers at him, but he dodged them all, twisting his body to almost casually shoot the tranq guns out of the officers' paws with his own pistol in rapid succession as he dashed away. The tranq guns broke apart upon landing several feet away. Grimacing in both shock and fear, the officers threw their arms in the air, pinned where they stood by the weapons leveled in their direction and next to the cheetah's head by the weasel and fennec, respectively.

All of this having occurred in the space of mere seconds, Judy hadn't yet been noticed by anyone. She moved hastily but silently to hide in a shadowy corner behind the two dangerous mammals. They were both small and would be easy for her to take out, provided she retained the element of surprise. Watching them closely, she tiptoed to a spot that would give her a running start directly behind them.

After yelling at the officers to get on their knees, the fennec kept one gun trained on them and the other on the cheetah while the weasel went around swiftly binding their wrists together, including the cheetah at the reception desk. He instructed the wolf who was aiding the injured tigress to keep doing what he was doing but still made sure he was tied up. Even the bleeding feline officer wasn't spared, being forced to endure the bullet in her side with her paws held fast.

Once the criminals were standing next to each other again, they spoke quietly but angrily between themselves, too distracted to register the soft, rapid taps of Judy's feet against the hard floor until she was almost upon them. With an expert leap onto the reception desk and a strong, well-timed split kick, she knocked both their guns from their paws, grinning when she beheld their bulging eyes and dropped jaws. She only allowed herself a moment to gloat, however, before bending lower to grab the fennec by the arm, twisting it around as she turned her back to him and then throwing him over her shoulder to make him smash into the torso of the weasel. They landed with an immensely satisfying "Oof!" several feet away and made excruciatingly slow movements to get up—so slow, in fact, that Judy had no trouble rushing over to pull some rope from her belt and tie their wrists together in a single tangled knot before they fully realized what was happening. They were clearly unaccustomed to physical combat. It was just too easy.

"Whaddya think you're doin'?!" exclaimed the fennec indignantly, though Judy could barely understand him through the voice distorter on his face.

"Enacting justice," Judy answered, panting lightly as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. "What else?"

The two criminals struggled fiercely against their binds, but they stopped to gape when she kicked their guns toward the flabbergasted cops, who were still nearly prostrate on the floor as they witnessed the scene.

"I'm just here to help, guys!" she proclaimed proudly. "Just let me get the last one, and then—"

Just as she was turning to head toward the basement stairs, she yelped and jumped back in surprise as a bullet bounced right between her feet and ricocheted harmlessly to the side. Looking up, she saw the red fox studying her with narrowed eyes, his gun looking so at ease in his paw that he may as well have been holding a doughnut for all the concern he showed about it. In his other paw, he clutched the briefcase that she'd seen him taken to the basement; she could only assume he'd filled it with something.

"Who's this joke?" he cocked his head lazily and sighed like a parent walking in on his toddler throwing around toilet paper in the bathroom. The distorter made his voice sound deep and throaty, sending a tingle down Judy's spine that she ignored.

Instead, she widened her stance and positioned her clenched fists at her sides. "My name is Crossfire!" she announced, remembering at the last second to change the quality in her tone so that she sounded more alto than mezzo-soprano, adding a farmer's drawl just to be extra sure that she couldn't be recognizable to anyone. She tried not to flinch at how silly it felt. Her accent would clearly need some work, but that would have to wait.

As she was trying to hide her embarrassment, she saw the fox's eyes slowly blink at her. "Really," He said flatly, then used the gun to idly indicate her bodysuit. "You make that yourself?"

Judy almost looked down at it but managed to keep her gaze fixed firmly on her foe. "Is there a problem?"

He only raised an eyebrow at her, then inquired, "Why Crossfire?"

Elated that someone asked for the first time, Judy drew herself to her full height—which wasn't very tall, she knew, but she hoped it would make her speech as impressive as possible. "Our world is saturated in darkness, and it's short on heroes to combat it. I place myself in the space defining the exchange of destruction and noble struggles constantly being traded between the guilty and the innocent respectively, protecting the truth and justice with my very life. I am the first line of defense, the buffer between good and evil. That's why I'm called Crossfire."

Behind her, she heard the fennec and weasel groan, and even a couple of the officers snickered. Heart pounding, she fought off a blush—though they wouldn't have seen it under her mask anyway—and tried to keep up the illusion of confidence. The cheetah at the receptionist's desk let out an excited but muted squeak. Her eyes remained locked on the red fox, however, and she thought she could see a real smile in his eyes, though he chuckled.

"Well, you don't let things get to you, I'll give you that," he stated. "Not bad for a cute little bunny."

The word "cute" immediately irked her. Judy glared and pointed at him. "Enough talk. You've attacked police officers at the ZPD and stolen what isn't yours. You won't get away with it."

The fox's eyes hardened. For a moment, all they did was stare at each other. Then they both moved at once.

Judy darted forward in a quick jig-jagged pattern, certain that her speed should outmatch the shots she anticipated the fox would aim at her. They never came, however. Instead, she saw him stick it in a holster at his belt and cross his forearms together just in time to block her as she jumped high and tried to slam her foot into his face.

The next minute or two passed in a flash as they engaged in a dance of swipes, lunges, punches, kicks. The fox was clearly far more well-versed in fighting than his companions; his movements were smooth and calculated in contrast to hers. He restrained himself in an effort to conserve energy, she could tell, while she was pouring as much strength as she could into everything she did. Though neither landed a hit on each other, Judy found herself exhausting everything she had ever learned and taught herself trying to push an offensive on him. To her relief, he seemed to be tiring out rather quickly. His skill level was high, but his endurance was low.

He seemed to realize this as well; his movements suddenly grew more desperate. When he dodged one of her high kicks, he took a risk, stepping closing to her and swiping a paw near her face. It would be easy to avoid, but as it neared her, a flashback charged through her mind—memories of another fox's paw, claws sharp and extended, leaving a mark on her cheek and a reminder of—

 _No!_ Judy shook her head to chase it away, but the momentary distraction cost her. Although she managed to evade his paw, the darkly clad fox followed it up with an open-palmed hit to her stomach with his other paw, sending her several feet back. He paused to see if she would get up, and with a growl, she did, picking up the offensive with a new sense of rage.

After keeping him busy with moves aimed at his upper body, Judy surprised the fox by dropping into a sweeping kick that sent him crashing to his back. As they both panted heavily, she set one foot triumphantly on his chest and bent her face toward him with her fists on her hips. "Who were you calling a  _cute little bunny_ , fox?" she drawled.

"All right, you got me," he said, but Judy's ears perked up when she noticed a hint of amusement in his tone. "You're not just cute. You're positively  _adorable_."

With that, he held up a canister of fox repellent, aiming it at her. The second that she realized with a panic that he had taken it from her belt, he sprayed it directly at her face and rolled away after she leaped off his chest and before the cloud could descend on him, leaving her coughing, sputtering, and blinking away tears. Even with such a tight suit and closed-off mask, the repellent was remarkably potent, and Judy suddenly wondered if she'd ever actually be able to bring herself to use it on anyone. Somehow, it had never occurred to her that it would hurt so much.

Over the sound of her own gasps, she heard the fox yell flippantly at her, "It's called a hustle, sweetheart!" When she took in a sharp breath to formulate a furious response, she accidentally inhaled more of the spray and coughed even harder.

By the time she could compose herself and see properly again, neither the red fox nor his companions were anywhere in sight. However, the red and blue lights of police cars and ambulances were flashing outside the precinct. Despite feeling a certain pride in her accomplishments in her first night as a vigilante—her failure to apprehend these criminals notwithstanding—Judy wasn't naïve enough to think that the police officers would thank her. While the attention of the officers on the floor was turned toward the lights, she slipped away to hide in the stairwell leading down to the basement, stopping to hear what would happen.

Judging by the footsteps, she guessed that maybe a dozen cops swarmed inside, tranquilizer guns ready. Some mammals announced that they were paramedics, urging officers to move out of their way; Judy knew that they would be tending to the wounded tigress. Faintly, she could hear the officers discuss everything that happened. She couldn't help but grin when she picked up the delight in the cheetah receptionist's voice when he mentioned her. It was with some reluctance that she moved to hurry silently down the stairs when someone with a particularly deep, gruff voice commanded a couple of officers to look for her.

After studying online pictures of the precinct's layout so often back in Bunnyburrow—back when she thought she still had a shot of being accepted to the police academy—Judy knew that she could escape through some ventilation shafts in the basement. In fact, there would be one in the—

The records room.

The door was wide open, though it appeared intact. The fox must have jimmied the lock.

She ran inside and glanced around. It didn't look like a lot of damage had been done; a few filing cabinet drawers were hanging open, and one was halfway empty. Guessing that it was the one that had interested the fox, Judy peeked inside and read the label of the divider that no longer had any case files nestled inside it:  _"Missing Mammals, June 2016."_

Her eyes widened. Missing mammals? The ones from just the last couple of weeks? That would include Randol.

What could they want with  _those_?

She had no time to wonder; heavy footsteps were clomping down the stairs. As quietly as possible, Judy jumped to the top of a filing cabinet that was positioned right in front of a ventilation shaft. To her relief, it opened readily, and she scurried inside. Just before closing it behind her, she noticed a scribbled message on the opposite wall.

" _Courtesy of the Hustler."_

There was a stick figure of a fox drawn next to it.

Glaring at it, Judy closed the ventilation shaft, whipped out her flashlight, and began navigating her way to the surface.

* * *

 _Day 1: Monday, June 16_ _th_ _, 2016, 10:15 p.m._

* * *

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't ice all three of you right now."

The portly arctic shrew dressed smartly in a three-piece suit and sitting on a leather chair atop a desk before Nick, Finnick, and Duke was leaning one cheek into the palm of his paw as he spoke, his tone and expression indicating that he expected to be bored by their answer. They knew better than to believe that, though.

Nick cleared his throat just a tad nervously as he eyed the polar bears flanking the shrew. "Because, Mr. Big, we didn't  _actually_ lose any of your guns?"

"But you were so close, and there's no guarantee that you won't lose them next time." Mr. Big frowned deeply, his lip curling and breaking his façade of nonchalance. "Especially since you're clearly so prone to bouts of imbecility, evidenced by your willingness to attack a police precinct directly on a whim."

"First of all, it was after dark, and the precinct is relatively empty at that time of night, so we knew we stood a good chance of success," Nick protested, hoping he still sounded polite. "Secondly, I'm not sure I'd call it a  _whim_ , sir. We had a purpose there."

"And it was?"

Keeping his movements slow so as not to alarm the polar bear bodyguards, Nick slid his briefcase onto the desk beside Mr. Big and opened it to reveal a pile of case files. They had been jostled around when the bears had scooped him and his friends from a street a few blocks away from precinct and loaded them into a limo, but for the most part, they were still organized. The shrew scrutinized them, then quirked an inquiring eyebrow at Nick.

"These are the case files for the mammals who've gone missing in the last couple of weeks," Nick explained. "They're all predators, and the ZPD hasn't found them, either because they're too incompetent or too apathetic. Maybe both."

"So?"

Furrowing his brow, Nick balked for a moment before looking back at Finnick and Duke, who demonstrated their unwillingness to get involved by shrugging and shaking their heads. He drew a deep breath and returned his attention to Mr. Big.

"I think it's within the parameters of the mission of the Den of Thieves to try looking into rescuing these missing mammals ourselves," he said, trying not to sound frustrated by how obvious it was to him.

Mr. Big chuckled. "We make statements to our government through our actions, Nicky," he said, "but we are not vigilantes. Not like that bunny who confronted you this evening. Does she have a name for herself, by the way?"

"Crossfire," Nick answered, smirking. "Something about putting herself in the line of fire between the innocent and the guilty."

Now Mr. Big actually slapped his knee and laughed, a harsh, wheezy noise that Nick rarely heard. It was somewhat grating to the ears. Slowly, the shrew's mirth tapered off, and he tapped his cheek contemplatively with a single finger.

"Well, as ridiculous as she sounds," he rasped, "Kevin and Raymond did witness her capabilities, and the three of you have firsthand experience with them, obviously. We will have to regard her as a real threat." He looked at Nick, Finnick, and Duke each in turn. "If  _any_ of you have the chance to bring her to me, do it immediately. In the meantime," he continued, waving his paw dismissively at them, "get out of my sight, and don't let me hear about you using my gifts for such foolhardy things again."

Nick hastily shut his briefcase and snatched it up before Raymond and Kevin sauntered over to forcefully usher him and his friends out of Mr. Big's elaborately decorated (and absolutely freezing) study. As soon as they were in the red-carpeted hallway accented with the occasional expensive painting, they each let out an anxious breath. While Nick set his briefcase next to him and slouched against the opposite wall with his paws in his pockets, Finnick turned to Duke to point a stern finger at him.

"That is the  _last_ time I ever let  _you_ have anything more dangerous than a  _baby spoon_!" he spat with the air of someone who had been holding it back for hours, which wasn't far from the truth. "You almost  _killed_ a police officer for  _no reason_!"

"He was gonna shoot me!" Duke insisted.

"She," Nick corrected calmly. " _She_ was going to shoot you."

Duke snorted. "Anyway, I was defendin' myself."

"You coulda scared her with a warning shot instead o' pumpin' a bullet in her," Finnick snarled. "We don't kill unless we have no other choice."

Nick felt his fur bristle, but he kept his voice low and cool. "We don't kill  _at all_."

He felt the eyes of his friends resting uneasily on him, but he ignored them, keeping his gaze thoughtfully trained on the floor and his expression carefully neutral. At length, Duke intruded on the silence.

"Anyway, there's no point in gettin' upset 'cause I  _didn't_ kill her," he sniffed.

"Only 'cause your aim is crap," Finnick grumbled.

"I don't care what Mr. Big or any of the other senior Thieves say," Nick cut into their argument, although he wasn't sure whether he cared if they listened to him. "I'm tired of just blowing things up and drawing graffiti. I'm going to find those missing predators."

As Duke rolled his eyes, Finnick scrutinized Nick from head to toe, as though he were looking for the wrench that got stuck in his gears. "Ya wanna get kicked out?"

"No, but—"

"Then stick with the program, Nick."

"But  _why_?" Nick implored, throwing up his paws. "Why aren't we doing more than just making our discontent known, creating explosions, stealing things, and causing chaos? Why aren't we  _really_  taking control of what happens to us?"

"Your head is in the clouds again," Finnick scolded him, but it was without heat. "We got sucked into your daydreams tonight, Nick, but we nearly ended up in prison for it. Or worse. No more crazy crap like that. We do what we can, and what we can do is make trouble. That's it."

Already tired of this conversation, Nick sighed and checked the time on his phone. "Well, it's getting late," he said, kicking lightly away from the wall to stretch and then pick up his briefcase. "As much as I love arguing and getting threatened by mammals who are smaller than me, I've had enough excitement for one night."

His friends—whom Nick silently thanked for not commenting on how abruptly he changed the subject—muttered their agreement as they all started ambling down the hallway toward the front door, which was, unsurprisingly, guarded by even more surly polar bears. They passed without incident.

By the time they had slinked through alleyway shadows and reached Finnick's van, Nick was forced to acknowledge the strain that was put on his body by fighting with Crossfire. He knew a lot about paw-to-paw combat mostly by theory and a bit of private practice, and it was honestly a relief that he had managed to keep up with her despite having precious little experience applying it, but the soreness in his arms and legs would be a high price to pay for his safety. In the end, he was lucky that he'd managed to pilfer the fox repellent, as disgusted as he'd felt to actually use it. His utility belt seemed especially heavy where he had placed it for safekeeping.

His mind lingered on the vigilante and her explanation for her actions. He snorted softly to himself as he thought of all the responses he had for her. If she were so concerned about justice, why would she fight to support a system that perpetuates oppression? She was either ignorant, insane, naïve, or—worst of all—totally aware. Somehow, though, he would put his money on naivety.

In any case, her idealism and determination had been laughable, yet it also stirred something like admiration somewhere beneath his contempt. Enemies they may be, but he still found himself harboring a grudging respect toward her. In a better world—or perhaps if he simply weren't a  _fox_ —he might have done what she was doing.

After changing into his normal clothes, stuffing his hustling outfit and equipment into his duffel bag, and bidding good night to his friends, Nick trudged the journey back to his apartment. Unlocking the door, he fantasized about how gloriously hot the water would be when jumped into the—

The shower. Which was taken, judging by the light under the closed door and the sound of water sprinkling into the tub.

He had momentarily forgotten that he had a roommate now.

The first thing he did, of course, was to stash his duffel bag and briefcase back in the secret compartment of his closet. Then, with a mighty groan, he flopped onto the living room couch and plopped his forearm over his eyes. After a few minutes, he heard the shower water abruptly cease. Not long after that, the smell of steam, lavender body wash, and damp bunny filled his nostrils when the bathroom door swung open.

"Hey, Fluff," he rumbled without moving. There was a pause as Judy's footsteps halted between the bathroom and her bedroom, and he was certain she was peering over at him as well as she could from her vantage point.

"First 'Carrots,' now 'Fluff'?" she scoffed. "Do you even  _remember_ my real name?"

"Sure, I do. It's Ears, right? That's what I heard a customer call you earlier," Nick quipped.

Grinning, Nick could swear he could actually  _hear_ her rolling her eyes. Once her bedroom door clicked shut, he swung his feet off the couch, picked out a comfortable change of clothes from his room, and then made his way toward the bathroom. Soon enough, he was stripped and standing under the shower water, grateful that there was still enough heat left for him after the bunny had taken her turn.

He took his time, only leaving when the soreness in his muscles was mostly relieved. As he stepped out, he heard faint voices coming from the living room and scowled. Had his new roommate already invited someone over? The last thing he needed was more strangers in his space.

After scrubbing the towel all over his fur and making an effort at brushing it into something resembling neatness, he quietly opened the door and peeked around suspiciously. His sharp eyes didn't pick up any new shadows or forms, but his ears twitched as he continued hearing someone talking. It sounded different now, though, like it was in the room, but it also wasn't.

It only took another minute or two for him to throw on the red t-shirt and black gym shorts he had brought with him into the bathroom, and then he padded cautiously to where Judy was lounging languidly on the couch, her laptop set in front of her on the coffee table. It was immediately apparent that the voices Nick was hearing were coming from a film she was playing on it. Chiding himself for his paranoia, he smirked amiably and returned the jovial little wave Judy sent him when he appeared. Then he wandered into the kitchen in search of something to eat.

"I got some vegetables," he heard Judy say. "Feel free to help yourself."

"Thanks," Nick replied, keeping to himself the fact that he was desperate for some juicy protein.

Finding a salmon patty in the freezer, he unpackaged it, slapped it into a pan on the stove, spiced it up, squirted a bit of salad dressing to let it sit in something with flavor, and just watched it cook for a while, his brain too tired to do much else. He let the scent of the patty conquer his nose, and it took him a moment to realize that Judy was standing just a couple of feet away, curiously observing it sizzle as she clutched a celery stick.

"Uh," he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "It's salmon. You probably won't want to be around while I eat it."

"Oh, I don't mind," she shrugged, her eyes still on the salmon. After a beat, she added, "I hardly ever see meat."

"Well, you don't really have a reason to, do you?" Nick responded. He turned off the stove, though he wasn't sure if it was because he really thought the salmon was done or because it distracted him from feeling anxious about her staring. Rather than transferring it to a plate, he decided to simply grab a fork and eat it straight out of the pan, keeping his eyes averted from Judy as he did so.

At length, Judy asked, "Are you okay, Nick? You seem stressed."

Suddenly feeling defensive, Nick scowled at her. "I had a long day. Anyway, it's kind of unusual for prey to stick around when a predator is eating meat."

Judy's paws flew up to cover her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry! You must feel weird."

"A little," Nick mumbled.

"Weeeeell," the bunny leaned forward and dragged out the word. "I just wanted to ask you something. I mean, when you've had a long day, nothing wraps it up better than a movie night, so why don't you join me on the couch? You're already almost done with that."

"Please, I know how emotional bunnies are," Nick said, rolling his eyes with his mouth full of the last chunk of fish. "I'm not interested in watching some sappy, sentimental—"

The sounds of screaming and gunfire erupted from the laptop. Judy fixed him with a half-lidded gaze, arching her eyebrows while taking a slow, thoughtful bite from her celery stick. She chewed pointedly, mouth open.

"I stand corrected," Nick acquiesced, bowing his head humbly.

Immediately, Judy's face broke out into a grin. To his surprise—and not altogether an unpleasant one—she grabbed Nick's paw and dragged him to the couch. Although she kept a respectful distance from him once they were both seated, she grabbed a fleece carrot-printed blanket that she had laid over the couch's arm and covered both their legs in it.

It wasn't until the movie was almost over and they had both spent time poking fun at the star's overdramatic lines that Nick suddenly realized something was missing. He frowned for a moment, glancing around the room as he tried to place it.

"That's what I'm going to start saying whenever I leave an order at the service counter!" Judy exclaimed and whipped her head around to face him, one ear draped gracefully over her shoulder and her lips pursed dramatically as she squinted at him. Her voice was comically deep. " _Hasta la vista, baby_!"

It hit Nick then that fear was what he had been expecting. He was in close proximity to a bunny he'd just met that day, one that had given signals of her nervousness at least twice already, but now, she offered no hint at all that she was afraid of him. There was no sign of anxiety  _anywhere_  in the air. It was clear.

Feeling strangely liberated, especially after the day he'd had, he actually laughed.  _Really_ laughed.

Judy grinned and playfully smacked his arm. "Okay, it's not  _that_ funny."

Wiping a happy tear from his eye, Nick said, "Oh, you have no idea."

* * *

**A/N: As a reminder, the story will be updated every weekend, probably on a Friday or Saturday. I've already got some buffer and have continued writing regularly, so there shouldn't be any late posts or hiatuses.**

**Also, thanks again to Camoss and The StarsShadow15 for their warm encouragement and advice. I'm especially grateful to Camoss for making sure that the exciting parts of this chapter weren't completely ridiculous. Again, please check out their wonderful stories, "A Ray of Hope" and "The Faded Line," respectively. Camoss writes with tailored passion, and The StarsShadow15 mixes sweetness with a great sense of humor. They're awesome, and I'm lucky to call them friends.**

**Thanks for reading. I'm loving the reactions so far. :)**


	3. What Big Eyes You Have

**A/N: This chapter focuses primarily on building up the friendship between Nick and Judy. I'm quite pleased with how it turned out. There will be plenty of action in the next chapter, though.**

**Thanks for all the support the story has received so far! We're still just scratching the surface, and I hope to make it worth your while. :)**

* * *

 

_Hey, there, Little Red Riding Hood._

_You sure are looking good._

_You’re everything a big, bad wolf could want._

_…_

_What big eyes you have,_

_The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad,_

_So just to see that you don’t get chased,_

_I think I ought to walk with you for a ways._

_…_

_I’ll try to be satisfied_

_Just to walk close by your side._

_Maybe you’ll see things my way_

_Before we get to Grandma’s place…_

_—“Little Red Riding Hood,” by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs_

* * *

_Day 2: Tuesday, June 17_ _th_ _, 2016, 8:22 a.m._

* * *

"We're late!" Judy huffed anxiously as she and Nick rounded the block where the Basic Instinct diner was waiting for them.

The fox directed a smirk and quirked eyebrow toward her. "So you're one of  _those_ mammals."

"What do you mean?"

"To you, fifteen minutes early would be on time, and five minutes early is late."

Judy pivoted to walk backwards and stick out her tiny tongue at him. "So I take punctuality seriously. Sue me."

"I just might, Carrots, if your idea of punctuality means I have to regularly wake up a full hour and a half before I'm actually supposed to be at work," Nick quipped. "That  _has_ to be some form of cruelty punishable by law."

"As it is, we barely made it out the door in time. If you'd get up on your own, I wouldn't have to resort to using cups of cold water to help you," Judy remarked, turning herself back around and raising her shoulder to her chin in a flirty manner that made him smile.

"Well, if  _you_ hadn't decided to keep us up  _way_ too late by watching another  _Furminator_ movie, I might have had an easier time getting up," Nick returned.

Waving her paw dismissively at his jibe, Judy responded, "I'm  _not_ taking the blame for that. You're an adult, Nick. Why didn't you just go to bed before me if you were so worried?"

Nick opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he closed it, knitting his brows together.  _Good question, actually_.

By then, they had reached the front of the diner, so he shrugged off the thought, opened the door, and flourished his paw inward with a bow. Judy dipped her head gratefully and bounced inside.

The diner wouldn't officially open for another half hour, but Yannis and Greg were already in the kitchen, chopping fruits and vegetables and warming up the equipment. The goat was muttering something about how the night crew never cleaned the grill properly, but he looked up and fell silent as he heard Nick and Judy enter. His eyes narrowed at them. Only then did it occur to Nick that it might seem strange that he and Judy had arrived together. Judy, however, seemed oblivious to it, skipping toward the office with a cheerful smile on her face.

Deciding it was best to play it cool, Nick adopted a casual pose in front of the service counter, paws in his pockets and posture nonchalantly slumped. He gave a single nod in greeting to Greg, who returned it in kind. Yannis stared at him with a stony expression for several seconds before the door to the office opened, and Judy bounded out, apron tied around her waist and her paws full of cleaner and a rag. As she hummed a jubilant tune and set to work cleaning the tables, Yannis jerked his head in the direction of the office. Nick followed him there.

"Keep in mind that if I see you harassing anyone, you'll be fired on the spot," Yannis grumbled from his chair at a chaotically disorganized desk as soon as Nick had closed the office door behind them.

A hundred sarcastic responses hurtled through Nick's mind, but he settled with, "Good morning to you, too, Yannis."

The goat grunted and rummaged around in a drawer at the desk, finally pulling out a few sheaves of paper and handing them to Nick. "Here's your hiring paperwork. I assume you know how to fill it out since you've already gone through so many jobs."

Once again, Nick elected to ignore the subtle jab, though he couldn't keep just a hint of exasperation from coloring his voice. "Yep, I'll have them done in a few minutes."

"See that you do," Yannis said. "Breakfast crowd will be here at nine o'clock on the dot."

With that, he shuffled out of the office. Nick released a sigh and slumped into the chair at the desk, his mood quickly deflating. The events of the night before rushed back to his memory.

_What am I doing here?_

About ten minutes passed as he filled in his personal information on the forms and signed and initialed his name in all the required blank spaces. He was occasionally interrupted by a server walking in to officially begin their shift, enduring their suspicious glances with a blank expression. The only employee who even said hello was Andy, though he didn't stick around to chat.

When Nick was done, he passed the paperwork along to Yannis, who had returned to the kitchen. The goat went back to the storage room and returned with a few white polo shirts in Nick's size, shoving them against his stomach with the strict instructions to wear a clean one every day and wash them weekly. Nick went to the bathroom to change and then busied himself helping with the final preparations before Yannis turned over the sign hanging at the door so that the side that said " _OPEN_ " was displayed to the outside world.

Sure enough, just as the goat had said, mammals started waltzing inside right away. Many of them hesitated when they noticed a fox in the kitchen, but none of them left. As Nick watched the servers seat them, he wondered if all the customers had looked at him like that yesterday, too. Admittedly, he had been a bit distracted trying to get Judy's attention, chatting with Greg, and keeping up with the orders.

A smirk crossed his lips when Judy greeted a pair of dik-diks as if they were old friends, even though the way that they were glancing curiously around made it clear that it was their first time at the diner. After watching her lead them to a table, he put his attention on the grill, where he was frying hashbrowns, eggs, bug steaks, and a few other items that had already been requested by other tables.

Another minute or two passed before he looked up and saw a couple of deer, who—like almost everyone else so far—appeared to size him up before deciding to be taken to a table. He frowned and shook his head as he flipped an egg.

 _What am I_ doing  _here?_ he asked himself again, this time more heatedly.  _Why do I even continue to bother with—_

His thoughts were interrupted when a gray paw slapped an order slip onto the counter, and he blinked as his head shot up. Judy, sporting an immensely self-satisfied grin, winked at him.

"Hasta la vista, baby!" she spouted in a deep voice, then rushed away while giggling madly.

Before Nick knew it, he was smiling softly to himself as he watched her scamper eagerly toward a young fox couple and their kit who had just slowly entered the diner. She bent low to look the kit in the eye to welcome him personally. As she beckoned them to follow her to a table, the kit's eyes brightened when he spied Nick in the kitchen. Once the family was seated, Nick's chest melted when Judy handed them their menus and spoke with them in warm tones.

His ear twitched as he listened to their exchange. After the fox father explained that he already knew he wanted the bug steak and egg breakfast combo, Judy scribbled it down in her notepad—still using that ludicrous carrot pen, Nick noted—and asked, "How would you like your steak, sir?"

The fox blurted, "Over medium." Immediately, he joined his wife, son, and Judy herself as they erupted in laughter. Several other customers glanced at them in surprise or wariness, but they were ignored. Judy shook her head in mock exasperation and pulled a nearby chair next to the table so that she could sit in it, crossing one leg over the other and balancing her notepad on her knee.

"I guess I should get comfortable. This might take a while," she teased.

"Sorry, I was thinking about the eggs!" the father exclaimed, one paw shielding his eyes in embarrassment.

"Well, at least you didn't say scrambled," Judy joked. "I don't even know what I would have told the kitchen."

She kept interacting with the foxes as naturally as though they had been friends for years. Nick watched her as subtly and frequently as he could. He didn't ask himself any more questions about what he was doing there.

* * *

 _Day 2: Tuesday, June 17_ _th_ _, 2016, 11:45 a.m._

* * *

"Bunny!"

Judy halted on her way to the storage room to grab more napkins and twirled around to find Yannis regarding her with his usual scowl, his hooves full of dirty plates that he had just picked up from a recently vacated table. She had given up on trying to get him to call her by name. "Yes?"

"You're late for your break," Yannis stated, gesturing at the clock that hung upon the entrance.

Glancing at it, Judy realized that he was right. The lunch rush usually began right at noon, and she was already behind. While some of the other servers got to take their breaks  _during_ the lunch rush, Yannis preferred having her on the floor because she was so fast.

"Sorry, I'll get right on it," she said, telling herself that the napkins could wait until later.

"And tell the fox to take his break, too," Yannis added.

"The fox?" Judy repeated with a terse sigh, feigning ignorance. "You mean the fox whose name is Nick because his parents named him Nick even though he's a fox and foxes have names, too, and his happens to be Nick?"

The goat glared and said nothing before disappearing into the kitchen. Judy rolled her eyes with a shrug and moved toward the service counter. Once there, she reached up to rest her palms on top on it and then laid her chin on her knuckles, looking steadfastly at Nick.

His attention was on whatever he was cooking, so she indulged in a moment to study him. She hadn't known many foxes in her lifetime, so she wasn't sure whether he would be considered attractive within his species, but as she had become accustomed to him, she thought he was rather… aesthetically pleasing. There was something boyish yet sophisticated about him. Though his features were more angular than hers, they still seemed so soft. His green eyes were especially intriguing, sharp and hinting at his layers of intelligence, in addition to strikingly complementing the orange of his fur.

All these thoughts ran through Judy's mind in the two seconds it took for Nick to sense her presence. The moment their eyes met, he granted her a smile, which she returned.

"Ready for lunch?" she asked him.

His smile turned into an amused smirk. "What, just because we had lunch together yesterday, you assume we'll do it again?"

Judy blinked, twinges of embarrassment and disappointment pricking her heart. "Oh," she said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

She was interrupted by his chuckle. "Just teasing, Carrots. I'll be out in a minute." After flipping something, he turned to ask Andy to take over.

As he passed his duties along, Judy went to the office, clocked out, and grabbed the lunches she had packed for Nick and herself from her purse. After claiming the same corner booth that she and Nick had used the day before, she only had to wait another couple of minutes before he joined her, sliding into the side opposite hers with a tired grunt.

"I love cooking," he said as he let his head fall back against the seat, "but it is  _tiring_."

"That's why we take breaks," Judy replied cheerfully, handing him the brown paper bag containing his lunch. She paused before digging her salad out of her own bag, watching with bated breath as Nick took a bite from the tuna fish sandwich she had made for him that morning and chewed thoughtfully. "How is it?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's fine. Kind of bland."

"Oh, sorry," Judy said, her ears drooping a little.

"Don't worry about it, Fluff," he winked. "If you hadn't packed it for me, I wouldn't have had time to make anything myself after how long it took me to drag myself out of bed. I appreciate it."

Judy felt herself brighten considerably more at that. "Well, I admit there's still a lot I could learn about cooking. There's not a lot of time for getting fancy when you have two hundred and seventy-eight mouths to feed every day."

To her alarm, Nick suddenly choked on his bite. Just as Judy was wondering whether she needed to hurry over and try to dislodge the food from his throat, he swallowed thickly and pounded his own chest with a fist. " _How_ many mouths?" he gasped.

"Two hundred and seventy-eight," Judy reiterated as she stabbed a forkful of spinach and lettuce. "I come from a big farming family."

Shaking his head, Nick ripped off another piece of his sandwich, and Judy found her eyes lingering for a moment on his teeth, fascinated with their pointy ends. "I don't know how you could  _possibly_  handle that," he muttered.

"I didn't really have a choice," Judy shrugged.

Opening the small bag of chips Judy had included with his lunch, Nick asked, "Do you miss them?"

"Yes and no," Judy smiled fondly as she thought of her family. "I love them, but I've also come to appreciate the privacy I get here in Zootopia. Besides, I'm usually too wrapped up in thinking about how to chase my dreams to get homesick."

After a pause, Nick popped a chip into his muzzle and queried, "Have you gotten a chance to see much of Zootopia yet?"

"Not really," Judy admitted. "Haven't had much time."

"Well, how about I show you around a little tonight?" Nick offered. He was smirking casually at her, but it seemed warm. "I can show you some of the best hangout spots."

A grin spread across Judy's face before she even realized it. "That sounds like fun! Let's do it!"

* * *

 _Day 2: Tuesday, June 17_ _th_ _, 2016, 12:18 p.m._

* * *

Assistant Mayor Dawn Bellwether was just checking her watch with pursed lips when a very rotund ram slipped into the seat across from her. Their dimly lit booth couldn't hide his usual emotionless expression, which used to tug at Dawn's nerves when they first met, but now she simply regarded it as more proof that he was the best mammal for the job to which she had set him. Generally, she was quite pleased with his work. Right now, she glared at him.

"You realize that we're already halfway through my lunch break," she stated flatly.

Doug shrugged. "Work," was all he said.

Scoffing, Dawn took a sip of her water. "This is work, too, you know."

"Yeah," Doug said. "So tell me what you want me to do next so I can get back to it."

With a sigh, Dawn leaned back and crossed her arms. "Fine. Woolter finally figured out which one of Big's drivers was in the limo that was taking Emmitt Otterton to his mansion last week. It was a black jaguar named Renato Manchas. Big has kept the whole incident mostly quiet, but Manchas apparently heard Otterton shouting about Night Howlers before Otterton attacked him."

"Night Howlers?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. " _Midnicampum holicithias_. You should know its colloquial name by now."

"I prefer  _proper_  names," Doug replied coolly. "Anyway, you're one of the only mammals I know who's even heard the term 'Night Howlers.'"

"Good," Dawn said curtly. "But that's neither here nor there. We can't risk Manchas talking to anyone else about this. You need to take care of him."

"You mean feed him a bottle of warm milk and rock him to sleep?" Doug asked dryly. Despite the fact that it was obviously a joke, he didn't crack even the slightest hint of a smile.

It wouldn't have mattered if he had. Dawn simply fixed him with a long, stern stare.

Finally, Doug broke the silence with an easy shrug. "Got it. But I won't have a fresh batch of serum ready for a while. I'll need more midnicampum holicithias soon, by the way. I still haven't gotten enough soil to start growing my own."

"I'll have someone get some for you."

"Do you know where Manchas will be for the next few days?"

"Big had him take a month off to recover since Otterton attacked him, so he should be at home," Dawn informed him. "If he goes anywhere, it probably wouldn't be for long. You shouldn't have any trouble finding him."

"Sounds good," Doug said. "Are we done?"

"We're done," Dawn nodded, watching as the ram stood and sauntered away.

The booth was in the farthest corner of the restaurant, but Dawn could still see most of the space as long as she leaned out just a little bit. As she pushed her empty plate to the side and finished her water, she looked around. It was a high-end restaurant that catered to prey, and the owner was more than happy to keep his lips sealed about her meetings with Doug there as long as she supported his love of gentlemammals' clubs with a little extra income under the table. He wasn't exactly her favorite ally, but she couldn't afford to be picky.

Not when the future of Zootopia depended on whether she would win the fight against predators. Not when the power to shape the world according to what she knew was right hovered so close to her grasp.

Eyes darting to her watch again, Bellwether clicked her tongue, left a couple dollar bills on the table, and jumped to the floor. Her hooves made small clacking sounds against the tile as she ambled toward the doors, but no one looked up to notice her. For now, that was good.

But she so looked forward to when they would all hail her as a hero.

* * *

 _Day 2: Tuesday, June 17_ _th_ _, 2016, 4:34 p.m._

* * *

A round of laughter made Judy swivel her head toward the kitchen as she hurried past, carrying a few dirty plates with her. She paused and watched as Greg and Andy hastily quieted the noise they were making, resorting to muted snickers as Nick smirked smugly to himself. Despite not knowing what had happened, Judy couldn't keep the edges of her lips from curling upward.

Upon entering the kitchen and placing the dishes carefully in the sink, Andy nudged Nick. "You should tell that to Judy!"

"Tell me what?" Judy inquired curiously, her ears perking.

"I was just telling them a story from when I used to be a bartender," Nick explained.

"And?" Judy pressed, stepping closer.

Rolling his eyes but still smirking, Nick continued. "I overheard a couple of drunk customers talking to each other right at the bar. One of them said that he wanted a piña colada. The other looked at him like he was crazy and said, 'What is a colada, and why do you want to pee in it?'"

At that, Greg and Andy barked another laugh together before they covered their mouths with their paws and continued chuckling, tears forming in the corners of their eyes. Judy was laughing, too.

"You should stay back here for a while, Judy," Andy said as they all calmed down. "He's got some of the best stories."

"Yeah, but he should focus a little more on  _cooking_ ," Yannis cut in as he walked into the kitchen from the office. "I'm hearing a little too much noise in here."

"Cooking? I'll show you cooking," Nick said. He snatched up his frying pan, flipped a bug burger into the air, and spun around quickly enough to make a full circle and still catch the patty on the pan. Judy gasped while Greg and Andy murmured their awe. Yannis simply stared with his mouth hanging open.

Nick raised his eyebrows at him. "Not impressive enough? Sorry." Then he pulled another frying pan from a hook above the counter, sent  _two_ patties into the air, whirled lightly on his feet, and caught them both with the pans just before they splattered onto the grill. Judy was clapping before she could even think better of it, and after sliding the patties down where they belonged, Nick graced her with a bow.

With a grunt, Yannis shook himself out of his consternation. "If you ever get something stuck on the ceiling, the cost to clean it will be taken out of your paycheck."

"Yes, sir," Nick mock saluted him when he headed back into the office. Andy and Greg were doubling over from the effort to laugh silently, and Judy just gazed at the fox with a delighted grin. He winked at her and whispered conspiratorially, "I think you'd better get back to work, Carrots."

Judy blinked, almost blushing, and turned to leave. "Right. But, um—" She pivoted and opened her mouth, suddenly not sure what she wanted to say, but certain that she wanted to say  _something_. "Don't forget that our shift will be over soon!"

With a soft smile, Nick replied, "How could I forget?"

* * *

 _Day 2: Tuesday, June 17_ _th_ _, 2016, 6:37 p.m._

* * *

If Doug weren't already so practiced in the art of feeling apathetic toward most everything around him, the ringing of his cell phone might have broken his concentration and caused his hoof to slip. As it was, he didn't even flinch. He made sure that just the right amount of midnicampum holicithias extract was dropped with the rest of the chemicals composing the serum and took a moment to watch them interact with each other in his pressure container before yanking his mobile out of his pants. It took some effort; he either needed to lose weight or buy looser clothes. That was a problem for another day, though.

Today, the problem was a jaguar. And Doug was sure he could guess who was calling him.

Sure enough, he recognized the purposely unsaved phone number as the one belonging to Dawn's office. He accepted the call with a toneless, "Yeah."

"I just hired a weasel to get you some more Night Howlers," Dawn said hastily in a stage whisper. "I'll tell him to meet you in your lab."

"Good, I should be here for a while," Doug replied. "Then that jaguar will go down in a few days."

"Why does it take so long?" Dawn sighed irritably.

"You can't rush science," Doug answered. "Unless, of course, you're experimenting with the concept of rushing itself."

"I don't know why you insist on never making sense," Dawn retorted. "But whatever—"

"Also, you're late on your payment," Doug interrupted dryly. "I'll work when you can prove that I'll be compensated according to our agreement."

The ewe snarled on the other line. "Fine. I'll wire some money over, but it may take a couple of days to get to you. Call me whenever it is that you get the job done."

"Sure," Doug promised, then promptly hung up. With a sigh, he watched the chemicals continue mixing with each other—slowly, but surely. It would still be a while before the serum would be ready to put into a pellet.

The most frustrating part of the job was that he would spend so long getting the serum just right, and the shot itself only took a second. It was like slaving over a stove for hours just to make a meal that would be eaten in five minutes. Something about it felt anticlimactic and disproportional to the labor that was put into it.

But life wasn't fair. The jaguar would be finding that out in just a few days.

* * *

 _Day 2: Tuesday, June 17_ _th_ _, 7:12 p.m._

* * *

"That hit spots I didn't even know I had," Nick said, stretching as they strode out of the Taaj Cuisine restaurant, which was nestled between a phone store and a bike shop in the Sahara Square.

Judy hummed her agreement and appreciatively eyed the beautiful elephant statue just outside the doors. "Thanks for showing me that place. They don't have anything that spicy in Bunnyburrow, but I loved it!"

"No problem, Carrots," Nick replied, smiling down at her and secretly amused that she had missed an opportunity to entertain a lewd interpretation of his comment. "I'll take any excuse to have someone  _else_ do all the cooking and cleaning."

She giggled. "Where to next, tour guide?"

Rubbing his chin in thought, Nick said, "Let me ask you this—green or brown?"

"Huh?" Judy blurted, brows furrowing.

Smirking mischievously, Nick asked again, "Green or brown?"

"Uh…" Judy considered the question for a moment. "Green?"

With a nod, Nick gently laid a paw on her upper back and began leading her down the street. "Green it is."

"Wait, where are we going?"

"You'll see."

After a few minutes of weaving their way around other mammals walking along the sidewalks, they arrived at the Sahara Square train station. A train was already there and waiting for passengers. Upon confirming that they both had an annual pass, Nick boarded it with Judy at his side. They stood next to one of the huge windows, close to an overhead speaker that quietly played radio music.

As the train began to move, Judy pressed her paws and nose against the glass window, clearly enthralled with the city lights and rapidly varying landscapes.

"I'll never get tired of this," she breathed reverently.

Nick shrugged. "Maybe it's just because I grew up here, but the city stopped being fascinating to me when I was kid."

"That's too bad," Judy remarked, turning her attention to him. "How old are you anyway?"

"Thirty-two."

"Oh, really? You look younger."

"Don't try to butter me up, Carrots. It doesn't work."

"I'm not trying to—what? Butter you up? What does that even mean?" Judy giggled.

Nick shook his head with a smirk. "And you? How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-four."

Before he could ponder much on that, the overhead music changed to a bouncy pop tune that Nick recognized as part of Gazelle's recently released album, which, of course, had already topped the charts. He rolled his eyes and turned to Judy in order to commiserate with her—only to find her eyes bright and excited while she started swaying her hips from side to side and pumping her fists in the air.

Nick groaned. "You like Gazelle? Oh, Carrots, I thought you were different."

Judy kept dancing as she cast him a sardonic expression. "Funny, I don't recall asking you for your opinion."

"And I don't recall waiting for you to ask me for it."

Laughing, Judy tried doing a clumsy pirouette. As she stumbled, Nick caught her by the elbow.

"Careful, Carrots," he chuckled and briefly glanced around at the other passengers, many of whom were staring at them. "Keep that up, and you might fool everyone into thinking you're a good dancer."

After shooting him a playful glare, Judy closed her eyes and lifted her chin away from him. "Feel free to leave me alone now."

"Oh, I do feel free, but thanks for checking."

She stuck out her tongue at him before going back to the window to drink in the sights. Nick examined her delighted reflection for a minute or two before joining her.

The train stopped twice, and each time, Judy asked if they needed to leave. Both times, Nick told her no. The third time, however, he tapped her shoulder and motioned toward the sliding doors with his head. She followed him off, and they both spied a large sign in the middle of the platform that read,  _"WELCOME TO THE MEADOWLANDS."_

"Okay, so we're in the Meadowlands.  _Now_ will you tell me where we're going?" Judy implored in an almost whiny tone as she padded after Nick.

Turning to her and spreading his paws innocently, he asked, "Come on, Fluff, don't you trust me?"

"Yeah, but I still want to know where we're going," she huffed.

Nick opened his mouth to reply, but the significance of the exchange suddenly hit him.

_She trusts me? Really?_

He hurriedly cleared his throat. "You'll see. We're almost there."

Indeed, only about five minutes passed by the time they reached an enormous park. Rainbow-hued flower plots drenched the hills and grass in meticulously organized formations as dozens of different kinds of trees dotted the landscape, beaten dirt paths winding their way through it all. Here and there, a stone-paved path led to the occasional gazebo or cement bench; many of them had plaques dedicating them to citizens who had contributed something significant or simply had loving family members with the means to put their name somewhere. Since it was already dark outside, there weren't many other mammals around, but that was their loss, since the elegant streetlamps lighting the area granted it a dreamy, ethereal atmosphere. Nick was gratified to hear Judy gasp and see her clasp her paws over her mouth as she gazed around.

She was speechless for a minute before she murmured, "What if I had said brown?"

Nick leaned down and smirked slyly at her. "That's for me to know and you to  _maybe_ find out someday, if you're a good bunny."

Her eyes locked on his and stayed there for a moment before she chuckled and looked away.

Straightening, Nick continued. "Zootopia's a big city. It will take a while to really show you everything."

Judy nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, of course. Well," she chirped as she stepped onto the path, "for now, let's go exploring!"

"Okay, you're the boss," Nick quipped as he tailed her.

They walked in silence for a while, Nick content to let Judy admire the scenery in peace. Every so often, he glanced at her to see her reaction and felt pleased that her fascination never seemed to waver. Honestly, although he had been to this park countless times already, it made the whole experience a bit new to him, too.

At length, they started nearing a small mom-and-pop store that had been cleverly built right next to the park. Nick knew that it got a lot of business from the mammals who frequented the area.

"Oh, perfect!" Judy exclaimed as she sped up. "I want to get something to satisfy my sweet tooth."

"Really?" Nick said. "Which one's the sweet one?"

Judy giggled. "Okay, let me correct myself.  _All_ of them are sweet."

"That explains so much," Nick replied with mock dryness.

The bunny stopped, set her paw on cocked her hip, and narrowed her eyes teasingly at him. "I'm sorry, but we can't  _all_ be smarmy and cynical party poopers, unlike  _some_ mammals I know."

Letting his jaw drop open in pretended shock, Nick declared in a haughty tone, "Now  _you_ can feel free to leave  _me_  alone."

"I do. Trust me, you're not that captivating."

Nick clutched a paw over his heart with a strangled cry. "Agh!  _Right_  in the ego!" He collapsed to the grass next to the path, extending his paw dramatically toward her as he spoke with a choked voice. "Tell my children… that I love them… But don't tell anyone else. I want them to wonder."

He heard Judy laugh as she grasped his paw and yanked him upward with surprising strength. "Come on, Slick," she said.

The moment he was back on his feet, Nick's breath left him. Something about this angle and the way the moonlight framed her face made her violet eyes especially luminous and vibrant. It seemed to highlight all the warmth, wit, and cheerfulness that he knew by now lay beneath them.

And that feeling—that deep, shimmery feeling that takes over when the heart freezes up for a moment—was one he recognized. This wouldn't be the first time he'd developed a crush. Never on a bunny, and this one seemed to be especially potent, but he knew the process quite well. He also knew that this was the  _worst_ time in his life to nurture it.

There was one more thing that he knew—if he starved it, the crush would die. If he kept his distance, it would fade away. If he—

"You okay, Nick?" Judy asked, cocking her head as she looked at him curiously. "You look kind of upset."

Nick blinked and glanced away. "No, no, I'm good. Sorry, I just realized that I need to, uh… buy paper towels."

"Okay, well, we can go get some," Judy said, hooking a thumb in the direction of the store. As if to follow her own suggestion, she turned toward it, then suddenly noticed a flier pinned to a cork bulletin board outside of it. Gasping in delight, she snatched the paper down and waved it at him. "Have you heard about this?"

Nick gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist to make her hold it still, peering at the words. "The Predators for Harmony Association? Yeah, I've heard of it. They have meetings every Tuesday night. I've actually attended some of them."

"It says here that they discuss ways to advance predators' rights," Judy commented as she studied the flier again. "Prey can join, too, can't they?"

Hesitating, Nick raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, but not many have. Why?"

"Because I want to join!" Judy exclaimed, grinning at him.

Her declaration—and the enthusiasm with which she expressed it—knocked Nick's mind off-balance for a moment. His mouth opened, but it took a few seconds for something to come out. "I thought you wanted to focus on getting the Mammal Inclusion Initiative passed."

"Well, I want to do that, too, but I'm interested in  _everyone's_ rights," Judy explained, her eyes back on the flier as she read the details. "Besides, the Mammal Inclusion Initiative would help predators, too, not just prey. Anyway, I want to be as involved with the community as possible." She frowned. "I guess it's too late to go to the meeting tonight, but—" Now she paused and looked hopefully up at him. "Want to go with me next week?"

"Uh…" Nick swallowed. "Sure." A genuine smile crossed his lips. "Actually, that sounds great."

With an excited squeal, Judy started bouncing ahead of him toward the store entrance, tucking the flier into her purse. Nick felt a little lightheaded as he watched her go.

A vibration in his pocket jarred his senses back into place. He fished his phone out of it and saw a text from Finnick.

" _Need to get together with Duke to figure out presentation,"_ it read.  _"You free tomorrow night?"_

Sighing, he opted to answer it later. He returned his attention to Judy, who was standing several feet ahead, half-turned toward him and wearing an expectant but patient smile as she waited. She was looking at him with those… those  _eyes_ of hers. Those terrible, beautiful  _eyes._

Hastily pasting a lazy smirk on his face, he walked as close as he dared to her, and when she was satisfied that he was following, she continued into the store.

Okay, so this crush definitely needed to be—well, crushed, but…

It couldn't hurt to be friends, right?

… Right?

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to my husband, my older sister, my awesome waiter, Jose, at Shari's, and my own sleep-deprived brain for some of the exchanges that occurred in this chapter.**


	4. Take This Sinking Boat

**A/N: Okay, friends, there's a lot of action in this chapter. I think I'm realistic enough to know what my strengths and weaknesses are, and a couple of my strengths as a writer are developing relationships and conveying emotion. However, I'm still figuring out action scenes. This whole story is equal parts labor of love, stress reliever, and practice for my original works, so if you have anything to say that would help me improve, please feel free.**

**That said, enjoy the fourth chapter. Things are starting to heat up. ;)**

* * *

_I don’t know you,_

_But I want you_

_All the more for that._

_Words fall through me_

_And always fool me,_

_And I can’t react._

_And games that never amount_

_To more than they’re meant_

_Will play themselves out._

_Take this sinking boat_

_And point it home._

_We’ve still got time._

_Raise your hopeful voice._

_You have a choice._

_You’ll make it now…_

_—“Falling Slowly,” by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová_

 

* * *

 _Day 3: Wednesday, June 18_ _th_ _, 2016, 7:44 p.m._

* * *

 

Judy loved it when she happened to be in the right place at the right time. As she was wandering the streets (and, occasionally, the roofs) of Zootopia dressed as Crossfire, literally looking for trouble, she happened to pass a Tundratown bar called The Ice Queen just as a commotion seemed to be occurring.

A terrified scream from inside vibrated in Judy's ears. With hardly a pause, she sprinted toward the window belonging to the darkened room from which she'd heard it, dragging a trash can so that she could stand on it and peek inside. The room appeared to be closed off from the rest of the bar.

What she saw provoked her jaw to drop open—two rhinos hunkered in front of a raccoon tied up to a chair in the middle of the room, their profiles facing the window. One of the rhinos was slapping duct tape over the horrified raccoon's mouth. Their voices were muffled through the thick glass, but she could catch a few words here and there.

_Something, something, "messing around," something, something, "our turf," uh… "Show you what happens," yadda, yadda, yadda…_

Not wanting to barrel into the situation without having a clear idea of what was happening first, she strained her ears forward, willing herself to pick up more. However, when one rhino delivered a right hook across the raccoon's jaw while the other brandished his horn threateningly, she threw caution to the wind and scrambled onto the window ledge. She looked frantically around for a latch of some kind, only to find that it could only open from the inside. With an irritated huff, she dropped to the ground, backed up to the opposite wall of the alley, sprinted forward, and leapt, slamming her feet against the window with all her strength.

Although it didn't budge, she could feel that it had loosened. The voices inside had stopped, too. Quickly, she scrambled to the other wall to get another running start and once again delivered a powerful kick to the window. This time, it snapped out of position. She braced herself to land on the floor of the room, but instead, she bumped against the pudgy stomach of one of the rhinos, who swung his arms too late to grab her before she fell gracelessly to the floor. Before he could react, Judy scurried to her feet and took a few glances around the room. The other rhino was staring at her with furrowed brows and a dropped jaw while the raccoon's eyes flew wide open.

Judy knew she didn't have long to stand there, but it suddenly occurred to her that she was trying to face down two aggressive mammals who were several times her size, and she had absolutely no idea how she was going to pull it off. The rhino she had inadvertently hit when she got inside was glaring pugnaciously at her.

_Well, looks like we'll be improvising tonight, Hopps._

Gulping, she rushed forward, not really sure what to do besides leap upward and smash her feet against his stomach. She hoped that the incident with the window pane would have already weakened him there.

It hadn't.

She bounced harmlessly off his rock-hard belly. The rhino barely seemed to have registered her attack. The moment she was back on her feet, he reached down and smacked her, sending her flying into the wall. With a gasp, Judy shook her head and shoved the pain in her back and lungs to the recesses of her mind. When she focused her vision, she yelped and rolled clumsily out of the way when she saw the rhino charging at her. His horn crashed precisely where her head had been a moment ago, and the thought of her brains splattering everywhere would have made her feel nauseated if it weren't for being distracted by the impatient growl of the other rhino.

"Maybe you should try actually  _tearing down_ the wall next time, Joe!" he was saying condescendingly to his companion, who was brushing rubble off his horn. "I don't think you've drawn enough attention to us!"

"Shut up!" Joe snapped as he glanced around. "Where's the—"

Judy—having taken advantage of the fact that neither rhino had kept his eyes on her for that moment—interrupted him by throwing a smoke pellet at his face. She was banking on the idea that if his body was too hard to be hurt by a kick, then it was probably hard enough to break open the pellet.

This time, her bet paid off.

As Joe coughed and yelled curses, she whirled around and threw another smoke pellet at the horn of the other rhino—and just in time, too, since he was rushing toward her at a terrifying speed. She darted to the side as his momentum forced him to ram into Joe, and they both fell to the floor, screaming obscenities at each other. Despite successfully keeping them off her tail for the next minute or so, Judy knew the thick gray smoke pervading the air would soon fill every corner and descend, so she worked quickly.

Hurrying toward the bound raccoon, she used a pocket knife to carve through the rope keeping his arms together behind the chair. It only took a few seconds, but it was still so much longer than she thought it would be. Hence, by the time he was liberated, she and the raccoon—who ripped the duct tape off his muzzle as soon as he had a free paw—were already hacking up their lungs. Luckily, the rhinos were too busy doing the same thing (in addition to nursing their sore horns) to stop them. It also helped that the smoke had engulfed the room, lowering visibility for everyone. Judy and the raccoon dealt with it by scooching along the wall until they made it to the door on the opposite end. Once she was close enough to see it, Judy bit back a curse, suddenly remembering that the fact that it was big enough to let rhinos through meant it would be a pain to open. Nevertheless, she jumped up, grabbed the knob, braced one leg against the door with the other on the frame, twisted her arms, and let out a grunt of triumph when the door opened. She and the raccoon wasted no time fleeing through it when she was back on the ground.

However, the sound of the door opening alerted the rhinos to their escape; Judy heard them cry out in surprise and anger. Pushing the raccoon in front of her, she muttered, "Go, go, go, go,  _go_."

As the raccoon disappeared into the stunned crowd of bar patrons, Judy whipped around just as the rhinos burst through the doorframe. Their eyes were red and watery, but they had no problem spotting her, which immediately provoked them to snarl.

Turning back to the rest of the bar, Judy quickly sorted through her options. She briefly considered jumping from table to table before realizing that it would make her too easy a target. It seemed, then, that the best thing to do would be to flop to the ground and begin crawling under the tables. It would be much harder for the rhinos to get down to her level, especially with all the other mammals around.

_Other mammals._

Inwardly groaning, she realized that she couldn't guarantee anyone's safety if she drew the rhinos out much farther. Heart pounding, she flicked her gaze around, rapidly formulating a really stupid plan.

Just as the mouths of several bar customers were falling open in shock and fear with the steady approach of two irate rhinos, Judy dashed toward the middle of the room, where someone had hung some triangular local sports team flags from a rope strung between two walls. The customers were started to move out of the way of the rhinos as they stomped toward her, and she was relieved that they weren't attacking anyone. Still running, she slipped another smoke pellet out of her belt, pausing long enough to make sure they would see it. Then she leaped up, pushed her feet against the rope, tried not to panic as she felt it give a little, then sprung forward toward the rhinos. As she drew her arm back to act as though she were about to throw the pellet, she grinned to see that she got the reaction she wanted; Joe—who was in front of his companion—held up a hoof as though to shield himself.

Rather than giving him what he expected, though, Judy shoved her feet against his forearm so that it collided with his own face. The force sent him toppling backwards onto his partner, and they both crashed to the floor once again. All of the customers scrambled as far away from the action as possible, some of them screaming. Judy noticed a deer recording everything on his cell phone, but she didn't have time to wonder whether that was okay.

That was because only Joe was actually knocked out. The other rhino was trying to push him off, and Judy had to think of another plan.

Now that there was empty space, she sprinted toward the front of the bar, where she saw the corner of a hallway. It probably led to the bathrooms. She glanced over her shoulder long enough to see that the rhino could tell where she was heading. Satisfied that he would follow as soon as he was up, she skidded to a halt after rounding the corner. Then she whipped out her pocket knives, threw the blades into the opposite walls at about the height where she guessed the rhino's shins would be, and tied the two ends of one of her ropes to the handles of the knives. Finally, she squished herself against the wall and waited.

Sure enough, the rhino was demanding that everyone stay out of his way as he came bounding toward where he saw her go. The moment he turned the corner, however, Judy noticed a tiny figure leaving the women's bathroom through a rodent-sized door. She was an arctic shrew with dark brown hair piled high onto her head, ringlets framing her watery blue eyes and pleasant-looking face. Humming to herself, she appeared to be completely unaware of what was happening.

As the rhino's shins came into contact with the rope and his body began to fall forward, Judy felt like everything started moving in slow motion. The shrew looked up and shrieked. Judy lunged toward her, caught her in her arms, tucked, rolled, and bumped against the other wall just before the rhino would have crushed them both. His head slammed against the end of the hallway—Judy hadn't even realized he was that tall—and he went still.

Panting furiously, Judy kept her gaze trained on the rhino, making sure that he was truly unconscious, until the tiny voice of the shrew took her attention.

"You saved my life!" she exclaimed.

Somehow, Judy managed to smile at her, forgetting that her mask concealed it. "All in a night's work, miss." She paused. "I love your hair."

"Oh, thank you!" the shrew replied, bashfully twisting a tendril around her finger.

Judy gingerly set the shrew on the floor and stood. Only then did she notice the number of mammals who were staring at her silently from just a few feet away. The deer was still recording her on his cell phone.

Clearing her throat self-consciously, Judy unknotted the rope from the pocket knife handles, lifted the rhino's arms (which had thankfully splayed at his sides), set them atop the small of his back, and tied them together. As she did so, some of the mammals started asking her questions.

"Who are you?"

"What were they doing?"

"Are you okay?"

"Are  _they_ okay?"

"What just happened?"

"Are you a  _bunny_?"

At last, Judy straightened and faced the crowd and spoke in an alto voice with her farmer's accent. "I'm called Crossfire," she said. Remembering the negative reaction to her speech at Precinct One, she decided to shorten it. "I am the first line of defense, the buffer between good and evil. I am here to protect the world."

The face of the raccoon she rescued suddenly popped around the corner. Some of the customers shuffled back to allow him space to move forward. He simply gazed at her for several seconds before nodding.

"Thank you," he said almost reverently. "What you did was amazing!"

This was the first time that someone had shown any real gratitude or appreciation for what she did. Any tiredness that had been accumulating in Judy's little body over the past few minutes immediately dissipated, and she stood up a little straighter.

"It's my pleasure, truly," she answered. When everyone simply continued gawking, it occurred to her that she should leave before she did anything to embarrass herself. She swung her arms lamely at her sides, stepped tentatively toward the crowd, and said, "Well, you guys can call the ZPD to have them get these rhinos in a cell. As for me, I guess I should get going. More evil out there to stop, you know."

The mammals before her drew back a little, the raccoon joining them. Just as Judy rested her paw on the front door handle, she heard the deer with the cell phone suddenly shout, "Crossfire, wait!"

She swiveled her head to look at him. Not pausing his video, he pointed at Joe, who hadn't moved from his place in the middle of the bar. "Shouldn't you tie him up, too?"

Letting out a laugh that she hoped didn't sound as awkward as she felt, Judy nodded. "Right, yeah, I'll just—" she said as she scurried over to Joe and fished more rope out of her utility belt. With a frown, she realized that this was her last bit, and she would have to go buy more tomorrow.

She shook her head as she finished her work. As if she didn't already have enough to do.

* * *

 _Day 3: Wednesday, June 18_ _th_ _, 2016, 8:20 p.m._

* * *

If it hadn't been for the adrenaline still pumping through Judy's blood, she might have gone home to rest. If she had gone home to rest, she might have missed the hustle.

As it was, she was running away aimlessly down a high-end residential street just a few blocks away from The Ice Queen in a burst of nervous but excited energy. That's why she was there to see a weasel completely decked out in a familiar black outfit break a darkened Victorian-style mansion window by heaving a brick at it. He carefully climbed through it, followed by a similarly dressed red fox.

The sight brought Judy to an immediate halt. She could hardly believe that she was watching the same criminals from two nights ago boldly infiltrating yet another place, probably to steal something else. It was almost too good to be true.

 _Okay, that's a weird way to think about it,_  Judy admitted to herself without dwelling too much on it.

She tiptoed as quickly as she could to the broken window, pressed herself just under it, and stretched her ears to listen. Their voices sounded distant; they must have already wandered far into the mansion. Pursing her lips, Judy decided to jump through her second window of the night. Of course, she peeked over the ledge first to make sure that she wouldn't land on any glass. The fabric of her suit was too thin to protect her against that.

Once safely inside, Judy briefly surveyed her surroundings. All the lights were off, and there was no indication that anyone was home. The mansion was lavishly decorated and impeccably clean. Spotless wood floors were adorned with huge, soft carpets. Velvet and plush appeared to be common themes for the furniture, along with striking contradictions of dark colors against whites. A few photographs were set above a brick fireplace, showing a smiling family of reindeer—a husband and a wife with two young boys. Turning away from it, Judy followed the voices of the criminals upstairs.

Closer and closer to them she crept. They had gone inside what she guessed was the master bedroom. Although they seemed to be having a discussion, they didn't sound harried in any way, which struck her as odd. It seemed like they should want to get in and out as quickly as possible to reduce the chances of getting caught. Were they so certain that the residents wouldn't return for a long time?

The door was slightly ajar. She peeked around it to find them sitting casually at the edge of a huge bed, their legs dangling over a few duffel bags that they had left on the floor. One of the bags had something small, thin, and cream-colored hanging out of it. Squinting, Judy realized it was a pearl necklace.

She studied the walls. The Hustler had already marked the one opposite the bed with his signature—" _Courtesy of the Hustler_ "—and stick figure fox drawing, along with another sentence reading, " _Taking back what you took_."

So they had found something to steal and left their calling card. Why weren't they leaving, then?

At this point, she wasn't even making an effort to pay attention to their conversation. Instead, she gently pushed the door open a little wider and leaned against the frame with her arms crossed.

"What kind of thieves  _are_ you?" she asked, taking pleasure in the way they both whipped around and stared at her. "It's like you're not even  _trying_ to hide."

"That's 'cause we're not!" the weasel barked as he launched himself from the bed and pointed at her. "Get out of our business before we make ya regret it, bunny!"

"It's Crossfire," Judy replied tersely. "I'll give you one chance to leave without taking those duffel bags with you."

The weasel growled. "You can  _take_ that chance and  _shove it_ up your—"

"We're waiting for the cops, bunny," the red fox—the Hustler, Judy suddenly remembered—interjected with a sigh. "Breaking the window activated an alarm."

Blinking in surprise, Judy pushed herself off the doorframe and took a single hesitant step forward. "Crossfire," she corrected him, almost absentmindedly. "And why would you be doing that?"

The fox dropped lightly to the floor and stood next to the weasel, whose feet were spread wide as he clenched his fists. "Last time we met, you were spouting a lot of nonsense about protecting the world from evil," the fox drawled. Something about the way his voice sounded in the distorter still made Judy shiver—not unpleasantly, she realized. "I want to ask you something. Have you ever considered the idea that you might be protecting the wrong people?"

Judy let a pause linger between them before she responded. "What do you mean?"

"This is the home of Charlie Hoover, the CEO of the Z-Mart grocery chain," the fox continued as he began walking slowly toward her. "He's one of the many mammals in Zootopia who gets rich by propping himself up on the labors of the exploited. His employees are paid as little as legally possible, and there have been numerous complaints filed about how he overworks them. He consistently donates to interest groups that seek to keep wages low and break up workers' unions. He only bothers to try to improve working conditions when someone tries to sue his company, and even then, he usually gets the charges dropped with bribes." The fox motioned toward the duffel bags. "What we're stealing will be sold, and the money will be used to provide resources to underprivileged mammals. Tell me this—what do you think you're protecting by stopping us?"

Try as she might, Judy couldn't keep a hint of hesitation out of her voice when she answered. "It's not up to you to decide how to enact justice."

"Says the vigilante."

"That's different!"

"It always is," chuckled the fox.

He was drawing closer and closer. Why was Judy's heart hammering like this? Was it fear? Anticipation?

"We want the cops to see us doing this so that they can get the message that we'll fight against the tyranny that they defend," the fox continued. "That's why we're waiting."

"You're telling me everything," Judy breathed. "Why are you telling me everything?"

The fox shrugged. "You say you want to help those who struggle. I just wanted to see if it was true."

He was standing right in front of her now. She tried to see his eyes through the goggles, but they were too shaded. Nevertheless, they seemed to hold her gaze firmly.

"I do want to help," she nearly whispered.

It didn't occur to Judy to try to keep track of how much time passed as they stared at each other. Seconds? Minutes?

"I don't know if I believe you," the fox murmured. "But the cops won't like seeing you here any more than they'll like seeing us, so you'd better leave before they get here. Anyway, I'm sure that there's a toy store somewhere that's missing its token small-mammal action figure, so why don't you go back to your box?"

"Your concern is touching," Judy said quietly but acerbically. "But I can handle myself. And I still have a job to do."

"Come on, little bunny. There's no shame in calling it quits."

"Yes, there is."

Was the fox smiling now? She couldn't tell for sure.

But it didn't matter. They both became aware of sirens surrounding the mansion. Before Judy could blink, the fox grabbed her wrist and clicked something around it. Then he yanked her forward and clicked something else against his own wrist. Gasping in indignation, she found herself pawcuffed to him.

She turned a ferocious glare to the fox. "You  _jerk_!"

"Your insults are truly groundbreaking, bunny," he said. Then he dragged her closer to the window, where the weasel joined him on his other side. They slipped their pistols from their holsters as they waited for the police to find them upstairs. Judy could only guess that they planned to stay just long enough to be seen, maybe make a short, nauseating speech, and then escape.

With her free paw, she rummaged quickly around her utility belt. She pulled out two tranquilizers darts and frowned at them before reaching behind the fox to stab one into the weasel's arm and then pressing the other against the fox's neck. He stiffened as the weasel collapsed.

"Let me go, or you pass out right here," Judy whispered through gritted teeth.

"Tranq me, and they take you, too," the fox reminded her.

"Maybe, but I like my odds better than yours. It's called a hustle," she hissed, hoping he could see her glare at him through her mask, " _sweetheart_."

Shaking his head with a sigh, the fox pulled a key from his belt and unlocked the cuffs. The moment she stepped away, however, she found him pointing his pistol at her gut. She froze, a gasp caught in her throat.

"Don't try to capture me or fight me," he said in a low, even voice, "or I  _will_ shoot you."

To Judy's own surprise, her memory of their previous fight came to her mind. She relaxed.

"No, you won't," she said, her chin rising. "You had that chance already."

The fox said nothing, although he slowly lowered his pistol. Then they both seemed to remember something at the same time and glanced toward the foot of the bed. They each made a desperate dive for the duffel bags just as the officers burst into the bedroom, brandishing their tranq guns as they shouted, "ZPD! FREEZE!"

Judy could only imagine what it must have looked like as she wrestled with the fox for the bags. To her dismay, her tranquilizer dart had been knocked out of her reach. She heard one of the officers say that he couldn't get a clear shot of either of them, and she was grateful for that, but she knew that she needed to end this scuffle as quickly as possible before her luck changed.

Which was happening soon, because one of them started moving closer. The closer they got, the easier it would be to just shoot point-blank.

After kneeing the fox in his gut, Judy twisted around to grab another smoke pellet from her belt, throwing it immediately on the ground. To her relief, the smoke rose and swirled around the room quickly, sending everyone into coughing fits while obscuring their vision. By this time, though, she proved that she had learned her lesson, having sucked in a breath to hold before releasing the pellet.  _Dang, these things are handy._

She scrambled to her feet, snatched up the bags, and ran to the window. Although she knew that she was on the second floor, she decided to take a leap of faith—and landed on something hard and metal.

Shocked, she looked down and found herself standing on top of a van. A masked fennec—the same one from two nights ago, Judy assumed—craned his head out of the driver's side window to gawk at her.

"S-Sorry," Judy stammered before she could remind herself that heroes don't apologize to criminals. Then she jumped down, heaving the duffel bags with her, and rushed toward the front of the mansion. After throwing them at the feet of a couple of officers who were stationed outside the front door, tranq guns drawn and ready, she sprinted away, ignoring their commands to stop.

Once she was hidden in some bushes across the street and felt satisfied that no one had seen where she ended up, she peeked through the leaves. The fennec was throwing something through the window of the master bedroom. Whatever it was, it provoked frantic shouting from the officers inside. A few seconds later, she heard a small explosion, which was followed by smoke meandering out of the window. The red fox—clutching the weasel in the crook of his arm—jumped out soon afterward, trailed by tranq darts that narrowly missed him. He dropped onto the roof of the van and then through the sun roof as the fennec gunned the engine and screeched away.

Judy watched them take a corner at a dangerous speed before releasing an exhausted breath. Although she carefully kept her ears pricked for any sign that an officer was coming her way, she allowed herself a moment to rest and reflect.

The fox's words went around her mind like a carousel.

_What am I protecting?_

After a moment, she allowed herself a small snort. "Not lowlife thieves," she softly answered herself. "Mammals like that CEO will be brought to justice in other ways."

She nodded at her own inner dialogue. It was sensible. It was good.

Still…

With a sigh, she hugged her knees and set her forehead on top of them.

Whatever. She would just go home and see Nick.

Now  _that_ brought a smile to her face.

No time to enjoy it, though. She heard an officer tell another officer to go look for her across the street.

Crouching, she left her hiding spot as discreetly as possible, making good use of the darkness. Once she reached the nearest alleyway, she broke into a sprint, trying not to panic about the possibility of being followed. Of course, she could always use another smoke pellet to throw them off.

But she was running low on them now. She had used  _three_ in one night.

Now she had to go out and buy more rope  _and_ more pellets.

 _Making the world a better place is surprisingly expensive_ , she thought as she shook her head and ran through the shadows.

* * *

 _Day 3: Wednesday, June 18_ _th_ _, 2016, 8:59 p.m._

* * *

The van's back door slammed open. Into it stomped Finnick and Duke, Nick trailing behind them with his paws in his pockets and a glare in his eyes.

"We got to do somethin' 'bout that bunny!" Finnick yelled as he snatched a beer can out of his cooler and shoved the lid closed. "If she keeps messin' with our hustles, she's goin' to get us all in prison or  _killed_ , either by the blues or by the Den!"

"I think this is the one of those times when it's kill or be killed, eh, guys?" Duke suggested as he grabbed his own beer can and settled onto the floor, glaring at the space before him as though the bunny herself were there. He still looked a bit groggy from the effects of the tranquilizer.

Nick frowned deeply at both of them. "Big said we should bring her to him. Besides, you know we don't—"

"We know  _you_ don't," Finnick interrupted. "Not all of us live in your pipe dream." His expression softened slightly as Nick cast him a betrayed look. "It's a nice idea, Nick, but it may not always be possible to avoid a little bloodshed."

Taking a few moments to mull it over, Nick shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe not. Regardless, I  _really_  don't think we're that desperate yet. She's a pain in our necks and needs to be stopped, yeah, but she hasn't done anything to deserve being killed. Besides, like I said, it's supposed to be Big's decision."

"Figures that ya'd only care about Big's instructions when ya don't wanna get your own paws dirty," Duke grumbled as he took a sip.

The fur on Nick's neck prickled. "And it figures  _you_ would want to  _ignore_ his instructions when you have to deal with a minor annoyance."

" _Minor annoyance_ , Wilde?!" Finnick exclaimed, a few drops of beer sloshing out of his can from the force of his abrupt lunge forward. The use of his last name let Nick know that his friend's anger was starting to peak. "She just  _ruined_ an important hustle, we're already on Big's last nerve, and our operation is  _delayed_! There's nothin'  _minor_  'bout her!"

Nick raised his paws placatingly. "Okay, poor choice of words. I get that she presents a serious problem. But we don't need to kill her."

The fennec set his can on top of the cooler and crossed his arms. "What do  _you_ suggest, then?" he snarled.

As soon as Nick opened his mouth, his pocket began vibrating. He retrieved his phone from it and bit back a sigh when he saw that it was Big himself calling.

He put the call on speaker. "Explain," Big said after moment, his tone soaked with strained patience.

Squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, Nick answered, "The hustle was…" He sighed. "It was interrupted by Crossfire."

"The bunny vigilante?"

"Yes."

For a few beats, the only sound on the other line was Big's cuffs rustling against his fur as he scratched his chin.

"I sense a pattern forming, and we cannot allow it," he finally droned thoughtfully. "Next time you see her, you have my permission to kill her."

Nick's eyes quickly widened as he watched his friends' reactions. Finnick's expression seemed remorseful but nevertheless hardened, and Duke simply nodded grimly to no one in particular. Swallowing back a betrayed huff, Nick reminded himself that he shouldn't be surprised about being alone in his opinion. No one else in the Den of Thieves had ever taken it seriously.

Still…

"Sir, we  _don't_ need to kill her," he said firmly, clutching the phone tightly. "And I won't do it."

"Nicky, it's for the greater good," Big responded, almost with the tone of a parent telling a toddler that eating their vegetables would make them grow tall and strong. "If she keeps disrupting—"

" _What_ greater good?" Nick blurted, his lip curling. "I joined the Den of Thieves because I thought it was committed to actively making a difference in the lives of marginalized predators, but all we do is make 'statements' and take no action! What exactly is she hindering? Your insistence that we justify the stereotypes against us?!"

Big sighed indulgently. "All right, Nicky, I'll humor you. What do  _you_ suggest we do?"

"I've  _made_ suggestions!" Nick exclaimed, his fangs peeking out from his lips now. He whirled away from Finnick and Duke so that he wouldn't have to look at their frustrated expressions. "I've suggested campaigning, fundraisers, charities, rallies—I've even suggested a simple  _theme park_! More recently, I've suggested taking action where the officials can't or won't, like with finding those missing—"

"You know none of those things really work in any meaningful or lasting way, Nicky," Big interjected. "That's why you stopped participating in those lukewarm advocacy groups and joined the Den of Thieves."

Nick inhaled sharply through his nose. In the pause that followed, Big chuckled.

"As always, your idealism blinds you to reality," he said. "We don't currently have the power to actually defeat or even sway our government or our society. But we do have the power to punish it. That's what we do in the Den of Thieves." He let that settle in Nick's mind for a moment before continuing. "You're a fox, Nicky. You'll always be a fox. The world has already decided what that means, and we are still too small to change it." His next words were delivered with an audible snarl. "So embrace it, and then let them pay for it."

The words crept darkly into Nick's chest and turned his blood to icy rivers.

While he was unable to formulate a response, Big hummed contemplatively and then spoke again. "The bunny—Crossfire or whatever—directly opposes our purpose and poses a danger to us. She needs to die."

That snapped Nick back to attention. He shook his head vigorously. "No. It's not necessary. There's another way."

"Nicky—"

"I'll stop her myself, I  _swear_ to you," Nick was nearly begging. Nearly. "Give me a chance to prove that we can be different, Big. Please."

Big said nothing at first. As he waited with clenched fists, Nick turned slowly to see Finnick's face stuck somewhere between a glower and a look of pity, while Duke merely appeared exasperated and bored as he slurped at his beer. Nick's ears twitched when Big answered.

"I'll give you forty-eight hours," he rumbled. "That's  _two days_ to catch this bunny and persuade her to desist her meddling. If you fail, you will never…  _suggest_ anything ever again. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," Nick promised with a fervent nod, ignoring the way Finnick shut his eyes and slowly shook his head. "I won't let you down."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" Big replied dryly. "In the meantime, I need to find another means of income with which to restock our armory, now that we don't have Charlie Hoover's jewelry, so you'll excuse me."

With that, he terminated the call.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nick stuffed the phone back into his pocket. For a full minute, no one said a word.

Finally, Nick reached up to scratch the back of his neck as he moved toward his duffel bag in the corner by the door. The silence persisted as he changed from his hustling outfit to his typical Hawaiian shit, tie, and slacks. Then he opened the van's rear door and mumbled, "Let's—uh, let's work on the presentation another time. Catch you later, guys."

* * *

 _Day 3: Wednesday, June 18_ _th_ _, 2016, 9:33 p.m._

* * *

The door swung open with a squeak, but it was barely audible over the sound of something sizzling on the stove. As he stepped into the apartment, Nick lifted his nose to sniff the ear. Vegetables. So many vegetables. And… turkey bacon?

He closed the door softly behind him and nearly dropped his duffel bag by the wall but quickly thought better of it. Walking around the corner separating the kitchen from the living room, he raised his eyebrows to see Judy pouring something into a frying pan, her focus so absolute that she didn't seem to notice he was there. He took advantage of the opportunity to simply watch her with his body leaning against the wall and his arms folded over his chest. One quick glance at the contents of the pan told him that she was making stir fry and throwing bacon into it. His stomach whined with anticipation.

Carefully, Judy removed a strip of turkey bacon from its package— _She's cooking for me!_ Nick realized with a warm smirk—and hesitated for a moment before simply flicking into the pan. She immediately leaped backward when drops of oil jumped out of it.

"Oh, sweet cheese and crackers!" she gasped.

At that, Nick couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of his chest. He attempted to conceal his grin when Judy spun around to face him with wide eyes. Wide, violet eyes that quickly relaxed into a delighted expression that seemed to melt away the last of the cold that had pervaded Nick's blood after his conversation with Big.

"You're home!" Judy exclaimed. She surprised him by wrapping him in a hug that ended in the same second that it took for his heart to skip a beat.

"So are you, apparently. And…" Nick took a moment to chortle again. "Sweet cheese and crackers?"

The blush that suddenly lit up her face was darling—as was the way she scrunched her nose at him. "You're awfully snarky for someone who's getting an effort-free dinner tonight."

"It's really late for dinner. How do you know I haven't already eaten?"

"O-Oh," Judy said hesitantly. "I didn't think about that. I was just hungry, so I figured I'd make something for both of us while I was at it." It was adorable, the way her eyes flicked awkwardly between him and the pan as she stirred it. "So… Do you not want to…"

Nick let her sweat for another second before chuckling and nodding graciously. "I'm actually starving, so thanks for thinking of me."

Her sweet grin of relief  _almost_  made Nick feel bad for teasing her.

"It's not too late for me to throw it on the floor, you know," Judy warned him without a hint of malice in her tone.

"I'm calling your bluff on that one, Carrots. No self-respecting farmer from Bunnyburrow is going to waste vegetables like that."

She huffed but didn't deny it.

Nick's grin grew before a thought occurred to him, and then it dimmed slightly. "Have you already eaten?"

"Oh, I'll be eating with you," Judy informed him.

Furrowing his brows, Nick nodded toward the pan. "But there's bacon in there. You don't plan on eating that, do you?"

She answered him as she moved back toward it. "Well, no, but I—"

A piece of bacon chose that moment to pop, sending a large splash of oil flying toward Judy's arm. This time, her gasp was deeper and more pained as she clasped her opposite paw over the spot where the oil hit her. Nick scurried to her side and held her forearm in his paws.

"Are you okay, Carrots?" he asked as he examined it for burns, gently pushing her fur this way and that. It didn't seem to have left a mark, but it slowly dawned on him that he was touching Judy in a rather familiar way.

Glancing up at her, he gulped when he found himself staring right into her eyes as they intently studied his face. He immediately returned his attention to her arm and pretended to check it for a moment longer before delicately pushing it toward her. "You're fine," he managed to say around the lump in his throat.

 _Cool it, Wilde_ , he chastised himself.  _No need to get so worked up over a forearm. It's a freaking_ forearm. _Don't feed the crush._

As he rubbed the back of his neck and sauntered as casually as possible toward the living room, he heard Judy pipe up behind him.

"To answer your question, I already set aside some for myself before I added the bacon," she said. "Everything will be ready in a minute."

"You know," Nick began as he lowered himself into a chair at the small table just outside the kitchen, "you don't need to cook meat just for me."

"It's no big deal," Judy replied a bit absentmindedly; once again, she was concentrating on her task. "It's the least I can do for you after letting me move in, and anyway, I like to learn new things."

"The least you can do?" Nick repeated. "Need I remind you that you got me a job?"

"I got you a trial run," Judy corrected him as she switched off the stove. "You got  _yourself_ a job."

She set a plate of the bacon stir fry in front of Nick and a plate of the vegetarian version before the chair adjacent to his. After bringing over glasses of water and forks as well, she settled herself into her seat. "So," she chirped, "how was your evening?"

Nick shrugged. "Uneventful," he lied with the help of the bacon chunks that he shoved into his muzzle.

"Hm. So was mine. What did you do?"

"Hung out with some friends."

"Sounds fun."

Suppressing a sigh, Nick forced himself to nod. "Yeah, it's always a good time with those guys."

"What are they like?" Judy inquired. "I'd love to meet them!"

A frown twitched at the corners of Nick's mouth before he remembered to keep his expression neutral. "Sure, maybe someday." After a moment, he added, "I don't know if they're really your cup of tea, though."

"Oh?" Judy said, scrunching her nose teasingly. "How do you know what kind of tea I like?"

Nick smirked back. "Well, I doubt it would be surly with a healthy dose of cynicism mixed with a dash of unproductively channeled frustration, but I've been known to be wrong on occasion."

The fork in Judy's paw slowed to stop in front of her open mouth. "Um… Oh." She hesitated as she tried to figure out what to say next, lowering the fork to rest on her plate. "So… Why—"

"Don't worry about it, Fluff," Nick shook his head dismissively and lifted more food to his mouth. "They're just not pleasant guys. That's all."

"Well…" Judy said quietly. "So why do  _you_ hang out with them?"

Watching her thoughtfully as he chewed, Nick let a few seconds pass before he replied. "Do you know how few mammals want to be friends with a fox?" When her only response was to look at him with a combination of surprise and sadness, he continued. "I don't really have too many options."

A smile sprouted on Judy's muzzle. "If that's really what you think, then maybe you need to broaden your horizons."

"Indeed," Nick chuckled. "Maybe I should start looking into carrot farms. I've heard carrot-farming bunnies make  _great_ friends for foxes."

"Oh, that's too bad, then," Judy said primly as she took a sip of water. "I'm no carrot-farming bunny. I'm a future police officer."

Nick grinned. "Well, I guess I could consider that, too."

For a moment, Judy eyed him skeptically. "What, no smart remarks this time about how I can't do it?"

With a one-shouldered shrug, Nick picked up his glass. "Would it make a difference to you if I did?"

"Nope!"

"So why waste the energy?" Nick said, expelling a satisfied breath after gulping down half his water. "I've had enough of  _that_ for one evening."

That made Judy blink at him. "What do you mean?"

As Nick slowly inhaled, he entertained the idea of opening up to this bunny. In the second it took for him to blow it all out, he perished he thought.

"Sorry, Carrots, but as riveting as my life is, you'll just have to find some other way to entertain yourself," he quipped as he stood and began walking his glass and empty plate to the sink.

After a moment, Judy swiveled in her chair to look at him. "Well, would you like to have another movie night?"

Nick downed a little more water before answering, a thought occurring to him. "You really want to spend your time with a fox? Don't  _you_ have any friends to hang out with?"

Judy glanced briefly at the floor before bringing her eyes back up to him, a tiny, knowing smile adorning her lovely face. "Do you know how few mammals want to be friends with a bunny who dreams of being a police officer?"

Several seconds of silence passed before Nick realized he was staring at her with his lips slightly parted. He pressed them together for a moment. "That can't be true."

"Tell that to my parents and everybody in Bunnyburrow who got sick of telling me that there's never been a bunny cop and never would be," Judy said with forced casualness, turning back to her food only to scrape at it with her fork. Then she shook her head and brought some of it to her mouth with a renewed vigor. "But like you said, it doesn't matter what anyone else says. I decided I'm going to do it, so I will."

Suddenly feeling uncharacteristically guilty about voicing his doubt, Nick decided on a slightly different topic. "Zootopia isn't anything like Bunnyburrow. I'm sure you can make friends here."

"I'm sure I can, but for now, I'm happy to spend time with the one I have," said Judy, flashing him a quick grin before shoveling her last bite of stir fry into her mouth.

Nick rolled his eyes but knew he was smirking back. "All right, Fluff, you win. We'll have a movie night. What are you in the mood for?"

As soon as he agreed, Judy seemed to relax. He hadn't even noticed that she was tense, but before he could ask about it, she answered his question.

"Nothing too exciting this time," she said, yawning. "I'm planning on just falling asleep on the couch right afterward. I'm exhausted."

Her admission made Nick pause in surprise. "That's right. You still don't have a bed, do you?"

Judy shrugged as she stood up, her dirty dishes in her paws. "I haven't really had time to get one."

"We're going to fix that tomorrow."

With a blink, Judy smiled softly at him. "We?"

Nick smiled back. "We."

 _You're the worst crusher of crushes who ever lived, Nick Wilde_ , he remonstrated himself.

And at that moment, he didn't care.

* * *

**Random A/N: Turkey bacon is actually really good.**

**Also, The StarsShadow15 and I think that everyone should start saying "pugnaciously" more often.**

**Yet again, I must thank The StarsShadow15 and Camoss for their help and encouragement, and I must also insist that you check them out if you haven't already. They're great. I kinda like 'em a lot. :)**

**Stay tuned! Next week, things get even** _**more** _ **complicated.**


	5. Misunderstanding All You See

**A/N: Things are gettin' fuuuuuun!**

**I don't think I have anything interesting to say right now.**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 

_Living is easy with eyes closed,_

_Misunderstanding all you see._

_It’s getting hard to be someone,_

_But it all works out._

_It doesn’t matter much to me…_

_—“Strawberry Fields Forever,” by the Beatles_

* * *

_Day 4: Thursday, June 19_ _th_ _, 2016, 7:32 a.m._

* * *

" _I am the first line of defense, the buffer between good and evil. I am here to protect the world._ "

Dawn slowly tore a bite from her cream-filled maple bar with her teeth, eyes locked on the computer screen in her office. Last night, some deer had uploaded a video of a bunny vigilante in Zootopia onto Ewetube, and it had already attracted several thousand views. She had watched it a dozen times since discovering it a couple hours ago, in awe of the bunny's maneuvers and ability to think on her feet.  _Two rhinos_  had fallen to her cleverness and athleticism within minutes of each other. It seemed impossible, but there it was, on video.

She was perfect.

At length, Dawn paused the video, then reached to the phone—scowling at the mug that had "World's Best Assistant Mayor" scribbled on it—and dialed Bogo's number. He answered shortly.

"Chief Bogo," was all he said in greeting, but the "hurry up and tell me what you want" part was implied by his tone.

"Hey, Bogo, it's me, Assistant Mayor Bellwether!" Dawn greeted him, letting obnoxious cheer ooze from her voice. "How are you doing this lovely morning?"

"Just dandy," Bogo replied with a cringingly false sincerity. Not for the first time, Dawn wondered if he really thought he was fooling anyone when he did that. "And yourself?"

"Oh, I'm finer than frog hair split nine ways, thanks for asking!" she squeaked jovially. "Hey, I just wanted to check up on how the search for the missing mammals is going. I told you that was priority number one, right?"

Dawn could just about hear the chief suppress a sigh before he answered. "Yes, of course. I assure you that we're doing everything we can, but ever since their case files were stolen, it's been slow going."

Frowning, Dawn forced herself to give him what she hoped sounded like a sympathetic chuckle instead of the volcanic rumble of rage that she wanted to let roll from her chest. "Right, right, I heard about that. Seems the Hustler and his gang have been getting bolder recently. I hope you can get them behind bars soon."

Bogo's response was just a grunt.

"Anyway," Dawn shrugged to herself, ready to address the real reason why she called, "have you seen the video that's started going viral on Ewetube? The one with the bunny vigilante named Crossfire?"

"It was brought to my attention, yes," Bogo admitted, tone wary.

"Well, I think she needs to be priority number  _two_ ," Dawn went on. "I mean, you know how even the most well-meaning vigilante can really do more to harm than help the work that you and your fine officers do. Not to mention this is a  _bunny_. She got lucky in this video, but she could seriously hurt herself and other mammals!  _And_ she's gaining popularity quickly. Pretty soon,  _everybody_ might think they can take the law into their own paws. We can't have that, can we?"

There was a pause before Bogo responded. "I understand that she's a concern. My officers have actually encountered her once before. But I'm not sure she qualifies as a priority almost on par with finding fourteen missing predators."

"Trust me, Bogo," Dawn insisted. "I have a feeling about this one." That was actually true. "Put some focus into bringing her into custody as soon as possible. Maybe even today. The sooner, the better, really."

"Of course, Assistant Mayor Bellwether," the buffalo grudgingly agreed. "I'll look into it."

"I know you can do it, Chief!" Dawn sang into the phone. "You're the best!"

He grumbled a vague farewell and hung up.

Dawn carefully set her own phone back on its receiver and sat back, clapping her hooves together and turning her gaze back to the paused image of Crossfire striking a strong, confident stance in front of a fallen rhino.

Yes. Perfect.

 _Creative, spunky, idealistic, and deceptively dangerous,_  Dawn thought to herself, a grin wandering lazily up her face.  _Reminds me so much of myself._

After a minute, she swallowed the last bit of her maple bar, stood, and swung her purse over her shoulder. Just before leaving the office, she dug around in one of her filing cabinets and unearthed a small police scanner, stuffing it into the bottom of her purse. Best keep it as close as possible today.

She wouldn't want to miss any of the action.

* * *

 _Day 4: Thursday, June 19_ _th_ _, 2016, 12:44 p.m._

* * *

"Hey, Slick," Judy said, tapping the service counter to draw Nick's attention away from the grill. "Table eight wants yet  _another_  bowl of fried cicadas. Could you grab some, please?"

"Crunchy peanut butter and jelly!" Nick responded in a comically high-pitched voice as he opened a cupboard and grabbed a scoop. " _More_ fried cicadas?"

Judy rolled her eyes as he shot her an immensely self-satisfied smirk. Ever since hearing her say "sweet cheese and crackers" last night, he hadn't missed a single opportunity to come up with a different variation of the phrase whenever she asked for something. They'd included such ideas as "fried potatoes and gravy," "frosted cupcakes and sprinkles," "sweet huckleberries and peaches," and a couple others that she couldn't remember. If it wouldn't just encourage him, she'd probably laugh. Of course, her exasperated reactions didn't seem to  _dis_ courage him, so perhaps she may as well give in to the humor.

With that, she allowed a small giggle to burst from between her lips before she quickly pressed them back together. Casting Nick a sidelong glance, she found him grinning from ear to ear at her, apparently pleased, and she couldn't help returning it.

"Here you go, Carrots," Nick said, handing her a bowl of the cicadas with a roguish wink.

She took the bowl and whirled around just before a tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks. They'd had a bit of a rocky start, but she had to admit that she was liking him more and more all the time.

The silly smile that had bloomed on her face slowly wilted when she encountered the glower of the caracal at table eight. She set the bowl next to his plate of spring vegetables and bug steak while plastering a new cheerful smile onto her face. "Anything else you need?" she asked as she folded her paws demurely in front of her.

"You plan on flirting with the fox cook again if there is?" the caracal sneered as he popped a cicada into his mouth.

Judy sucked in a breath and stood there dumbly for a moment. Her mouth hung soundlessly open. When the caracal arched an irritated eyebrow at her, she cleared her throat.

"Just—just let me know, then," she said as with as jovial a tone as she could muster. She pivoted and started walking quickly to the entrance, where she saw a middle-aged female otter pad her way inside. As she passed the service counter, she risked a quick peek at Nick, whose ears were angled slightly backward despite the determinedly neutral expression on his face. He didn't look at her, and she suppressed a sigh, guessing that he had heard the caracal, too.

"Welcome!" she said to the otter in a chipper tone. She hoped the customer wouldn't notice how forced it felt. "Is it just you today, ma'am?"

For some reason, the question made the otter frown sadly and look away. Judy blinked and studied her for a moment. It seemed as though she had slept in the pink sweater and floral-patterned purple dress that she was wearing, if the wrinkles were any indication, and there were bags hanging under her lovely olive-green eyes.

"Are you all right?" Judy queried, instinctively reaching out to touch the otter's shoulder before realizing that it might be rude.

Hurriedly, the otter nodded and replied, "Yes, it's just me."

After showing her to a booth and finding her a menu, Judy glanced over her shoulder at Nick. Sure enough, he was watching. They exchanged concerned looks before Nick had to turn his attention to stirring something on the grill.

Judy looked back at the otter and nodded solemnly. "I'll be back in a little while to take your order, okay?"

In response, the otter only smiled weakly, her gaze never leaving the menu—although she didn't quite seem to see it, either. Pursing her lips, Judy walked away to tend to other customers.

Only a few minutes later, she returned to the otter, who was now resting her cheek on her paw and staring into the space before her, her eyes blank accept for the moisture gathered around the rims. The sight of it squeezed Judy's heart.

"Um, ma'am?" she said softly, and the otter straightened to look at her. "Are you ready to order?"

The otter smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I haven't figured out what I want yet. I'm so distracted lately."

She fell quiet and looked away. Judy peered around the diner and, seeing no one in immediate need of her attention, gently set a nearby chair next to the otter and sat down on it.

"May I ask your name?" she asked.

With wide, surprised eyes, the otter answered, "Uh—uh, yes. It's Livia. Livia Otterton."

Judy offered her a small, reassuring smile. "Is there something you'd like to talk about, Ms. Otterton?"

At last, the tears left Ms. Otterton's eyes to cascade down her cheeks. She sniffed and tried to wipe them away as she answered with a choked voice. "I-I'm sorry, it's just—it's my husband. He's been missing for ten days, and the police still have no leads for him." She let out a single sob and covered her muzzle with a paw for a moment before continuing. "It's so unlike him to just disappear. I'm starting to lose hope that he'll ever come back."

The pain defining the otter's features crushed Judy's breath. Tentatively, she reached out to Mrs. Otterton's arm and rested it there. "I'm  _so_  sorry to hear about that." Her brows curved upward as she watched the otter try to hold in her emotions. "Maybe I've seen him. Do you have a picture?"

Nodding, Mrs. Otterton twisted to her other side to rummage through her purse. She produced a photograph of herself with her husband and children. "His name is Emmitt Otterton. We have two children together. We—we miss him so much."

As she finally allowed herself to cry, Judy pulled her forward into a compassionate hug, patting her back soothingly. Some of the other customers and servers were starting to give them odd looks, but Judy ignored them.

About a minute passed before Mrs. Otterton pushed herself away and rubbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm causing such a scene."

"Oh, no, please don't be sorry," Judy quickly assured her. "I can't even imagine what you're going through right now." She studied the photograph that the otter still held. After hesitating only for a moment, she asked, "May I keep that picture with me? That way, I can remember what he looks like and let you know if I see any sign of him."

Mrs. Otterton granted her a grateful smile. "That's so sweet of you." For a moment, she gazed affectionately at the photograph before extending it toward Judy. "Please keep it. I have more pictures at home, and if there's any chance at all that giving you this one will bring him back to me, I'll gladly take it."

Judy accepted the picture and pressed it against her chest, looking Mrs. Otterton in the eyes. "Thank you. I promise I'll do whatever I can." She stood and placed the chair back where it belonged. "In the meantime, may I put in an order for you?"

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Otterton replied, quickly glancing over the menu again. "I'll, uh, take the vegetable omelet, please."

"Of course," Judy said, taking the menu back after jotting down the order. Then she leaned forward and whispered, "And don't worry about paying. This one's on me, okay?"

Eyes widening, Mrs. Otterton exclaimed, "Oh, no, that's not necessary! Really, it isn't—"

"Please, Mrs. Otterton, I insist," Judy interjected as she held up a paw placatingly. "You just sit tight." She jerked a thumb behind her. "And I'll be getting the best cook in the diner to whip this up for you."

To emphasize her point, she grinned over her shoulder at Nick, who—as predicted—was observing their conversation. He winked back at them both as he flipped a pancake.

"Thank you," Mrs. Otterton said quietly, an abashed smile crossing her face.

With a jolly nod, Judy turned smartly on her heel and headed toward Nick. Rather than leaving the order slip on the service counter, she extended it directly toward him. With a warm smirk, he took it and waved it briefly at Mrs. Otterton to show that he had received it and would immediately begin working on it.

Expelling a satisfied sigh, Judy looked over the dining area and noted that a few tables needed more napkins. She began moving toward the supplies closet at the other end of the building, which brought her past table eight. The sharp, snide voice of the caracal halted her immediately.

"If I cry over how long it's taken you to get back here," he said, "are you going to pay for my next bowl of fried cicadas?"

Judy's eyes bulged. Yet again, she found herself speechless in front of him.

" _Well_?" he snapped. "What's it take to get a bunny to do her job around here?"

Slowly drawing a breath, Judy took her time answering. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. Should I take that to mean that you'd like another bowl right now?"

"You have to ask?" the caracal scoffed as he took a sip of his coffee. "You bunnies really are good for only one thing," he mumbled with his lips on the rim of his mug. Then he pointedly swept his eyes up and down her figure. "And I think you know what that is."

At that, Judy's face exploded into a blush so furious that it took all of her concentration to get it under control, leaving no room in her mind to formulate a response. Normally, she would have a comeback. She would unleash her ire on him to ensure that he would feel the shame he deserved for decades. But all she did was stand there, shocked, trying to process that what just happened had really...  _happened_.

Her legs moved rigidly and by instinct toward the service counter. Looking up, she noticed that Nick already had his gaze locked on her. His expression appeared passive at first glance, but she saw how far back against his head his ears were pinned, as well as the shockingly icy storm billowing behind his eyes.

"You don't have to take that kind of treatment," he said in a low voice meant only for her as he scraped some scrambled eggs onto a plate. Greg and Andy—each only a few feet away from him—glanced at him nervously, catching his tone but not his words. Judy supposed that neither of them had heard her exchange with the caracal. Nick continued. "We can get Yannis to kick him out."

"I'd rather not make a scene," Judy breathed, though her gut twisted almost violently at the thought of letting the caracal get away with it. She avoided Nick's eyes. "Can you just give me the cicadas, please?"

He didn't move for a moment. When Judy looked up at him again, he was still staring at her with that freezing anger. She felt herself shiver slightly, despite knowing it wasn't really directed at her.

At last, Nick reached into the cupboard where the fried cicadas were stored and scooped some into a bowl, but rather than letting her have it, he kept it close to him, scrutinizing it with his brows clashed together. Then he turned around, walked into the middle of the kitchen, held the bowl up near his muzzle, and sneezed. He sneezed again. And again. And again.

They weren't loud sneezes. Judy wasn't even sure that they were real. But they definitely looked messy.

Finally, he sauntered back toward the service counter to stand before Judy. She could see the telltale gleams of saliva and maybe just a  _dash_ of mucus mixed in with the insects in the bowl.

"Well, sweet buttery butter and biscuits," Nick said, his voice as blithe and chilly as a midwinter breeze. He looked up at Judy with a mischievous smile and a positively  _wicked_ glint in his glare. "Perhaps I should go see a doctor."

Judy found herself fighting back an answering grin as she met his gaze. An even more difficult battle was taking place in her chest, wherein burned a fire that urged her to leap over the service counter and nuzzle her face in his neck as deeply as it would go. Was it just her imagination, or was he getting handsomer by the day?

After a moment, she took in a long breath, lifted her chin with prim pride, and silently accepted the bowl, noticing how Nick shot warning looks at Greg and Andy when they each looked like they were about to say something. She marched back toward table eight and slid the bowl in front of the caracal. By then, the spit and snot had dried, and there was no sign whatsoever of the fox's sabotage.

"Sorry again for the wait, sir," Judy said with a coolness that he didn't seem to register. "The cook added some special new seasonings to make up for it."

Grinning, the caracal pulled the bowl closer to him and took a bite out of one of the cicadas. Judy could hear it crunching between his teeth as he spoke. "Now  _that's_ the kind of service I'm talking about. But hey," he said, turning narrowed eyes on her, "did I hear  _sneezing_ back there?"

"Oh, don't worry, sir," Judy said with a mirthless smile. "The cook is going to see a doctor."

* * *

 _Day 4: Thursday, June 19_ _th_ _, 2016, 6:18 p.m._

* * *

"Is this the way you like 'em, Carrots? Soft and squishy?"

"Yeah. There's pretty much nothing in the world that satisfies me more."

"That's what she said."

"Who?"

Nick barked a laugh as he settled next to Judy on the twin mattress, drawing wary glances from other customers at the department store where they'd stopped. He didn't care; he only had eyes for the little gray ball of fur huddled in the middle of the mattress with her eyes closed and a goofy, contented smile on her face. It was almost too adorable for Nick's will power to withstand.

"Have you never seen  _The Office_ , Carrots?" he asked her.

"I've heard of it," she answered, briefly opening one eye to look at him quizzically before shutting it again.

"Well, I know what we're watching for our next movie night."

"But that's not technically a movie."

"We're making an exception."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"Our friendship isn't a democracy."

Judy laughed and propped herself up on her elbows, making Nick feel almost disappointed to have said something that would spoil the vision he was enjoying of her comfort. "What is it, then? Should I start calling you King Nick?"

"Does that make you my queen?" Nick leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows. Then he mentally delivered a roundhouse kick to his own face, especially when she paused and looked at him with surprise, her parted lips like magnets to his own. It was all he could do to keep his lazy smirk from collapsing into a ready pucker.

Worsening his crush while freaking her out at the same time—it was  _not_ on the list of Nick's best moments.

_Change the subject, change the subject, change the subject!_

He smoothly rose to his feet and pretended to be interested in surveying the store so that he didn't have to look at her anymore. "Well, you seem pretty enamored with this one. Want to get it delivered straight to the apartment?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I think this is what I want."

When he turned his head back to her, he had to beat back a blush upon seeing the warm, contemplative way she was watching him.

"Thanks again for what you did today, Nick," she smiled.

Subtly clearing his throat, Nick ripped his eyes away and shrugged. He knew what she meant. Fantasizing about all the different ways he'd wanted to claw that caracal had helped his shift fly by, but the important thing was simply supporting Judy through the ordeal. "Only wish I could've done more," he said honestly.

She sighed and hugged her knees. "Well, it wasn't the first time I've been stereotyped that way, and I'm sure it won't be the last. I'll have to learn to deal with it better than just freezing up like I did." A frown twisted across her muzzle. "You know, I could've handled it if he'd called me cute or underestimated me for my size or something like that, but making  _those_ kinds of insinuations, that was…" She shook her head and shut her eyes for a moment. "That was different."

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Nick had sat back down on the edge of the mattress. He folded his arms to keep from laying a paw on her shoulder. "Well, there's something I learned as a fox that might help you as a bunny," he said. "It's my personal philosophy—never let them see that they get to you."

Judy quirked a brow at him. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that you shouldn't give anyone power over you," he said, training his gaze on the diamond patterns stitched into the mattress. "That way, they can't hurt you."

He fell into silence after that, and Judy let it rest between them for a while before she gently broke it.

"Has anyone ever hurt you, Nick?" she queried.

Barely managing to turn his sigh into a chuckle at the last second, he smirked confidently at her. "Not for a long time."

To his surprise, however, Judy fixed him with a puzzled yet sympathetic expression, as though she somehow knew that he'd just lied. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Suddenly, she rose to her knees and locked her arms around his neck, burying her nose into his fur there. Neither of them said a word; Nick was too busy trying to kickstart his heart, which had sputtered to a stop, and he had no idea what was going through Judy's mind.

Just as he was starting to melt into the pleasant sensation, a female voice cut sharply into the air between them.

"Look, bunny, if you're gonna make out with a fox, at least have the decency to do it where no else has to see you," it sniffed.

Nick and Judy broke away from each other abruptly, turning wide, bewildered eyes on the middle-aged lady hippo with nothing better to do than ruin the happiness of everyone around her as she waddled past. As she met Nick's stare, she clutched her purse tighter to her rotund figure, which was swaddled in the sort of dress worn by women who were always wanting to speak to a manager.

"Paws off, fox!" she snapped and kept walking.

So focused was Nick on schooling away the scowl he wanted to laser into her retreating backside that he didn't notice Judy's dropped jaw and clenched fists until she was already marching toward the offending mammal. He scrambled to reach for her, but she—being a bunny on a mission, of course—was too fast for him.

"Hey!" she yelled with surprising force for someone so fluffy. " _Hey_! You don't get to speak to him like that!  _Hey_!"

The hippo narrowed her eyes at the bunny as though trying to decide if it be worth the effort to clean off her shoes if she stepped on her. "I can speak to anybody however I want."

Any second now, actual steam would start shooting out of Judy's ears, Nick was sure. He hurried forward as she pointed in his direction, though her attention remained on the hippo. "It was rude and uncalled for, and you owe him an apology!"

"It's okay, Carrots," Nick said as he grasped Judy's paw and tried to pull her away as inconspicuously as possible. "I'm sure she's busy trying to find a nice retail employee to complain about. We shouldn't keep her. Let's go buy your bed."

Judy resisted briefly, but when she saw the insistent look Nick was sending her, she relented. Throwing one last fierce glare at the hippo—who merely huffed and turned away—she allowed Nick to lead her by the paw toward the mattress section. She let out a single furious snort.

"You didn't deserve that, Nick," she said firmly.

"Thanks for saying so, Carrots. Really." Nick offered her a genuine smile over his shoulder. "Maybe if we just keep sticking up for each other like we have today, they'll leave us alone eventually."

Sighing and leaning her forehead against Nick's shoulder as they came to a stop in front of the mattress, Judy replied, "I'm sure you're right. For now, I just have to not let them see that they get to me."

"There you go, Fluff! You're learning," Nick cheered. He couldn't decide whether he was disappointed or relieved when Judy straightened.

"This is  _exactly_ why I want to be a police officer, though!" Judy blurted as she swung her fists vehemently, clearly needing much more practice in not letting things get to her. "She would have respected me if I'd had a badge. She would have apologized to you."

"Not necessarily, Fluff," Nick smirked and patted her shoulder. "But if you really want to use your authority for something like that, maybe you  _would_ make a good cop."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a pang of guilt for encouraging her to continue reaching for a dream that he honestly wasn't sure could ever be hers. Then Judy bestowed upon him a soft, sunny, and heart-wrenchingly grateful smile. Somehow, it made her even more radiant than usual, like he'd just watered a thirsty plant. He got so caught up in relishing it that he forgot all about being doubtful.

An image poked at his peripheral vision. The electronics section was situated just across from him, and he swiveled his head toward the wall of televisions for sale. Many of them were playing ZNN. At first, he wasn't sure what had drawn his attention, but it was soon obvious—a clip of a certain vigilante bunny. Through a shaky cell phone lens, she was shown outsmarting two rhinos in a crowded bar, bringing both of them down into states of consciousness without even suffering a scratch. A banner ran along the bottom of the screens, reading, " _VILIGANTE CALLED CROSSFIRE TAKES LAW INTO OWN PAWS. IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION, ALERT ZPD IMMEDIATELY."_

After a moment, he realized that Judy was watching the screens, too. He couldn't quite read her expression, but it seemed to be locked somewhere between shock and fascination. Just when her gaze flickered toward his, he snapped his eyes back toward the televisions, keeping his face impeccably blank.

"Interesting, huh?" Judy said with a tiny chuckle. "A bunny vigilante. Who would have thought?"

Nick shrugged. "Let's just hope she doesn't get hurt."

It seemed that Judy had no response to that.

In only a few minutes, she had picked the frame and bedding set that she wanted to go with the mattress. As she and a cashier were setting up a time for everything to be delivered at their apartment, Nick's mind lingered on the memory of Crossfire barely dodging serious injury or worse at the hooves of two rhinos. No surprise that the ZPD was now asking for help capturing her. On top of all that, she was still unaware that even more sinister mammals were seeking her life.

He snuck a peek at his watch and nearly cursed out loud upon seeing that it was close to seven o'clock.

As much as he was enjoying spending time with Judy, there was another bunny he had only twenty-six more hours to find.

Tapping Judy lightly on the shoulder to grab her attention while the cashier was on the phone with a delivery mammal, Nick said, "Sorry, Carrots, I promised my friends I'd meet up with them again tonight."

"The surly-flavored tea friends?" she clarified with a half-lidded smirk.

Nick had almost forgotten about the way he had described them to her the other night. He chuckled. "Yeah, they're running low on sarcasm creamer, so I've got to go replenish their supplies."

"Better not keep them waiting, then," Judy grinned. "See you at home."

"See you there," Nick nodded with a single wave.

He shuffled out of the department store, paws stuffed in his pockets, and headed toward the space between it and the laundromat next door. The moment he was concealed in the shadows of the alleyway, he broke into a run. The sooner he grabbed his duffel bag and change into his hustling outfit, the sooner he could catch Crossfire, keep her inevitable death off his conscience, prove to Big that his ideas should be taken more seriously,  _and_ get home to spend more time with Judy before bed.

Suddenly realizing that he was actually planning his evening around seeing his roommate again, Nick groaned to himself. It seemed that he was fighting a losing battle with this crush of his.

Fine, then. Maybe all he needed to do was make sure that she never became aware of it and that he never acted on it.

… Could he really live with that, though? If these feelings got any worse…

He shook his head. There would be time to worry about that later.

For now, there was an entirely different bunny he needed to lure out of hiding.

* * *

 _Day 4: Thursday, June 19_ _th_ _, 2016, 7:30 p.m._

* * *

"It's right up here!" Judy called over her shoulder at the lion lugging a huge box up the stairs of the apartment complex. Well, the box was huge by  _her_ standards, but it actually wasn't too bad for the lion. Fortunately for him, she didn't need a large bed frame.

She slowed to a stop in front of the apartment she shared with Nick and glanced at the lion to verify that he'd noticed and wouldn't run into her. On her wrist, she carried a plastic bag with her new bedding, which she shifted to the crook of her arm in order to dig around her purse for her keys. Soon, she had unlocked the door and stood aside to let the lion through.

Once they were both inside, he set the box down in the middle of the living room, panting slightly, and peered around. "So where do you want it?" he queried.

"Oh, my bedroom is the one on the left," Judy answered, pointing toward the small hallway behind the kitchen. The lion nodded and swept the box up again to move it into the room. It was then that Judy realized that Nick's door was open. She tilted her head at it, remembering that it had been closed when they left. He must have stopped here before going out to meet his friends.

 _Maybe I just missed him_ , she thought, a tad surprised at the tingling sense of disappointment that flooded her chest at the idea that she might have been close to seeing him for just a second. She shook her head at herself. Clearly, she was starting to like this fox just a little  _too_  much.

Or was it "too much"? Really? Was there anything wrong with it? Was there any reason why she shouldn't pursue it? Besides the fact that foxes and bunnies weren't really known for being friends in the first place, let alone more than that?

It had never before occurred to Judy to be attracted to anyone who wasn't a fellow rabbit, or at least a hare, but Nick was… Well, he was different somehow.

What about the fact that she was leading a secret life as a wanted vigilante?

She let out a snort followed by a light, self-deprecating laugh at that. His reaction to seeing her on ZNN hadn't been negative, exactly, but it sure wasn't enthusiastic, either. It was doubtful that he could accept that part of her. After all, he'd been skeptical of her dream to become a cop, too. Well, besides that sweet comment earlier this evening.

Maybe she could convince him, warm him up to the idea.

… And if it didn't work?

Judy's shoulders slumped a little as a profound sense of chagrin seemed to soak her bones at the very thought of his rejection. In a short amount of time, he had become a good friend, possibly better than any she'd had before coming to Zootopia. Now his opinion mattered more to her than the combined opinions of every mammal in Bunnyburrow.

The lion poked his head around her bedroom doorframe, startling her out of her deliberations. "Want help setting it up?" he asked.

"Oh, no, but thank you," Judy said with a dismissive wave. "I have to take off soon, so I'll just do it later."

With a nod, the lion exited her room, bid her goodbye, and headed back downstairs to get back to work.

Once he left, Judy sighed and glanced forlornly around the apartment with her paws on her hips.

Well, no use feeling sorry for herself.

Within minutes, she had changed into her Crossfire gear. Just before leaping out of her bedroom window, she remembered the photograph Mrs. Otterton let her keep and plucked it out of her purse. Once it was safely tucked into one of her pouches—and she clicked her tongue irritably when it reminded her that she hadn't yet replenished her supply of ropes and smoke pellets—she dropped to the ground outside her window and started looking for trouble.

* * *

 _Day 4: Thursday, June 19_ _th_ _, 2016, 8:02 p.m._

* * *

"What's a guy got to do to get in trouble around here?" Nick muttered to himself as he stepped a little further along the bridge wall, shaking his small can of black paint.

He'd decked himself out in his usual head-to-toe dark outfit and then chosen a bridge in Savanna Central that wasn't terribly busy without being totally obscure, hoping that the balance would make it a place that Crossfire would likely visit to scope out potential evildoers without risking too much exposure. So far, though, he'd been vandalizing the walls and arches for a good thirty or forty minutes, and she hadn't come along yet. If he knew of a way to draw her attention besides blatantly committing crime, he would do it. As it was, he simply kept spraying the paint and waiting. Not very patiently.

Well, at least it was good practice for his fox stick figures.

It was a lot harder to draw with a can than it was with a pen. Before he knew it, his teeth were biting his tongue as he concentrated. Before he knew it, another ten minutes had passed. Before he knew it, a certain pair of violet eyes had meandered into his train of thought, bypassing the ticket station entirely. Before he knew it, he had created a bunny stick figure, too, and her paw was  _far_ too close to that of the nearest fox figure.

Gulping down a gasp, he frantically emptied most of his can of paint on hiding the bunny behind a gigantic and unsightly black blot. He frowned fiercely, growled with frustration at himself, and threw the can down with a little more force than he'd intended. It clanged out of sight, and he heard it smack against a trash can somewhere. Rather than look for it, he slouched his shoulder blades against the wall and crossed his arms, letting out an irked huff.

 _The one time I_ want  _her to show up, and_ —

There was a scream. High-pitched and steeped in terror.

Nick blinked and straightened. Two thoughts blasted through his mind:

One, someone needed help.

Two, Crossfire would probably want to be the one helping.

Okay, three thoughts. Even if Crossfire didn't come, maybe he could finally do something productive while he waited for her.

A grin flashed across his face as he broke into a run toward the source of the distress.

As he was about to turn down an alleyway, another scream resounded, telling him that he was slightly off-course. He skidded to a stop and sprang off the ground to sprint in the correct direction.

Two more alleyways later, he located the center of the commotion—a rotund sheep in a rock band t-shirt was on his rump on the ground of a quiet street full of nothing but closed shops, scooting away from a towering wolf.

Just when the ram was about to shriek again, he glimpsed Nick emerging from the shadows. For a moment, his expression of terror contorted into one of perplexity, then wavered unsteadily between the two. Even the wolf paused to glance his way, his face frozen in an aggressive display of fangs and saliva while his claws remained hovering over the sheep's trembling form.

Immediately, Nick realized that something wasn't right about this situation—and not just because a wolf seemed to be attacking a ram—but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

He stopped trying to figure it out when a familiar bunny-shaped figure in black leaped to the ground from the top of one of the buildings.

"Crossfire!" he called out before he could stop himself. In the second that it took for her to whip around and see him, the wolf suddenly rocketed away in the opposite direction.

The bunny didn't hesitate as she shot after the wolf like a bullet. Rolling his eyes, Nick followed, pushing himself to match her speed as best as he could.

They were led around several streets before Crossfire decided to put an end to the chase. In front of him, Nick watched with a begrudging sense of awe as she pumped her little legs hard enough to eventually launch herself toward the wall of a building only to kick off it and propel herself forward enough to land in front of the wolf. There was no time for the wolf to stop or change direction, and for a second, Nick worried that the collision between him and the bunny would be nasty. However, Crossfire took advantage of the wolf's momentum by sliding her body under his stomach, grabbing his shirt, and throwing him several feet ahead. Nick winced as the wolf landed with an audible thud on the loose pebbles of the pavement and didn't get up.

Panting, Nick rested his paws on his knees, but his well-earned rest came to an abrupt halt when Crossfire pivoted to face him.

"What were you trying to do to that ram?!" she yelled.

It took Nick's mind a moment to understand what she was implying. He pointed briefly at the wolf. "I'm not with him."

"Well, you weren't  _against_ him, were you?" Crossfire persisted, folding her arms firmly with one hip cocked. "You just stood there!"

"I had arrived  _seconds_ before you did," Nick replied, just barely hiding his snarl. "I was  _about_ to do something to help."

Judging by the tense silence that passed between them, as well as the fact that Crossfire never shifted from her stern position, Nick doubted that she believed him.

"Where are your friends tonight?" she finally asked, her tone only slightly softer.

Nick straightened his shoulders. "It's just me tonight." He took a cautious step forward, noting that she held her ground. "I was actually hoping to talk to you."

The bunny slowly tilted her head at him. "About?"

"You need to stop this vigilante work of yours," he said bluntly.

Despite the outfit covering every inch of her body, Nick would swear he could see her fur bristling. "Why? So that you can force your ideas of justice on the world without anybody to challenge you? I don't think so!"

"Anyone tell you that you think a  _little_ too highly of yourself?" Nick retorted. When she looked ready to jump into a fistfight with him, he shook his head and raised his paws placatingly. "Look, forget I said that. As I'm sure you've seen, you were on the news today. The ZPD is after you. But that's not the worst of it. All they want to do is arrest you." He paused in the hope that his next words would sink into her as deeply as necessary. "The reason why I'm telling you to stop is because the mammals of my organization want to kill you for what you're doing."

For a while, Crossfire said nothing. When she spoke, he could tell that she was trying to sound confident, but she was clearly a bit shaken. "And you're telling me this because?"

Pinching his nose, Nick sighed. "Because I disagree with them. Why do you think?"

After a moment, Crossfire leaned her weight onto her other hip. Although her mouth was concealed by her mask, it was obvious that she wanted to say something and simply couldn't produce the words.

So Nick continued. "They can do it, too, you know. It's a decently sized organization with funding from several sources, including one of the wealthiest crime bosses in Zootopia. Some of the members are street fighters and paid assassins. You're just one mammal. They  _will_ get you if they want to."

Slowly, Crossfire swayed her head from side to side. "No. I have no reason to believe you."

"You  _need_ to believe me."

"I can't just quit after the first threat."

"One threat may be all it takes."

"And you could be lying just to get me off your tails."

"I'm  _not_ —"

"You're a thief! Thieves are selfish and only think of themselves! Why should I believe you?"

"Will you listen to me for one  _second_?!" Nick shouted. It seemed to startle her into staring at him, body hunched as though prepared to dash away at any moment. He plowed on. "What would I gain from telling you that there are mammals out there who have it in for you? Yes, I  _obviously_ want you off our tails, but I  _also_  don't think you deserve to die!" He spread his palms at his sides. "I mean, sure, I guess you can think of it as selfish that I want you to live if only to spare my own conscience, but it still helps you in the end, so why should you care about my motivations?" He chanced another step forward, but she still didn't retreat, and he might have admired it if he didn't want to grab her shoulders and shake her. "I'm telling you the truth! Stop what you're doing, or you're going to get  _killed_!"

Another long, uncertain silence quivered between them. The sound of clopping hooves in the distance interrupted it.

"They went this way!" a male voice said. Nick guessed it was the ram he and Crossfire had saved.

And there were a couple other pairs of paws trailing closely after him.

Cops.

Nick tried to channel all of his desperation into Crossfire's mind as he stared at her. "Will you give up your vigilantism?" he implored.

She only paused for a second. "No."

He heaved an exasperated sigh. " _Please_."

With a shake of her head, she repeated herself. "No."

Gritting his teeth, Nick whipped out one of the guns holstered on his belt and answered, "Then I won't apologize."

The bunny gasped in fear and tried to roll out of the way, but she didn't realize what a wider range his shot would have because it wasn't lead he was using to stop her—it was a net.

As soon as it touched her, it wrapped itself tightly around her body and twisted itself up at her feet, throwing off her balance. She fell to the ground and threw herself into trying to wriggle free—but in vain. Nick hurried to stand over her and let her examine the gun in his paw.

"A new gift from my boss," he explained. "You're out of your league, bunny. I hope you know I'll do everything I can to stop you."

"Funny, I could say the same thing to you!" Crossfire spat back at him.

Nick only nodded before scurrying to another alleyway, unwilling to risk saying another word when the voices of the ram and the police officers had walked so close. At this point, he was equally wary of being spotted, so he didn't stick around to watch the police arrest the bunny. Instead, he soundlessly rushed in the direction toward his apartment.

Although it wasn't how he'd hoped the evening would go, Crossfire would be safe  _and_ out of the way in police custody, and that was all that mattered.

His job was done, and he texted Big to tell him so.

* * *

 _Day 4: Thursday, June 19_ _th_ _, 2016, 8:42 p.m._

* * *

The fox retreated not a moment too soon. Dawn had started to panic a bit. His presence had been unexpected in the first place, but everything turned out all right.

As expected, Jesse led the police officers down a nearby street instead of taking them onto the correct one. Knowing that he couldn't keep them distracted forever, Dawn emerged from her hiding place behind a dumpster in an alley opposite to the one in which the fox made his escape. Then she jogged to Crossfire's writhing side. Fortunately, her keychain had a small knife in it—tiny mammals such as herself could never be too prepared, after all—and she used it to slice through the net easily.

After a rather awkward pause, the bunny shook off the remains of the trap. If Dawn could see clearly into that mask, she might have expected to find curiosity there, if not outright wariness.

"Who are you?" Crossfire queried.

"Like you, I'm a small mammal who values justice," Dawn leaned toward her and whispered conspiratorially, then extended her hoof. "I'm Assistant Mayor Bellwether, and I must say, Crossfire, I am  _such_ a big fan."

The bunny shuffled her feet, probably blushing under her mask. Honestly, that only made her more endearing. Dawn had to resist the urge to pinch her cheeks.

"Listen, I have a favor to ask from you," she said, and Crossfire's ears instantly stiffened with attention. "I'm sure you've heard about the missing mammals, right?" The bunny nodded. "The ZPD have been doing their best, but it's not enough to find  _any_ of them. So I was wondering—simply because both of us are more interested in doing the right thing than we are in keeping somebody else's rules—would you mind looking into this specifically for me? It's City Hall's topmost priority right now. We're worried that a serial kidnapper is on the loose."

Slowly, Crossfire nodded at her. "Yes, of course, ma'am. I'm here to help."

"Oh, please, call me Dawn," the sheep chuckled, playfully smacking Crossfire's arm. Then she produced a business card from a pocket in her dress— _Whoever invented pocketed dresses will probably get automatic entry into heaven_ , Dawn thought to herself—and handed it to the bunny. "Call me anytime you need something. Seriously,  _anytime._ And thank you  _so_ much. I've been so concerned about this. It's just a huge load off my mind that you're so willing to—"

Abruptly, she realized that Jesse and the cops were getting closer again. He probably wouldn't be able to hold them at bay anymore.

"We can't let the police find you!" Dawn whispered urgently as she pushed Crossfire away—not in any particular direction, just  _away_. "Quick, get out of here!"

Crossfire paused. Bellwether raised her eyebrows at her and was about to shoo her away when the bunny spoke with a sincerity she hardly ever heard.

"Thank you," she said, "for your help tonight."

With an amiable grin, Dawn replied, "Well, you know, we little guys have to stick together."

"Like glue," Crossfire replied, a small smile in her voice.

Dawn allowed herself a small, squeaky chuckle. "Good one."

Then the bunny hopped swiftly out of sight.

Once she was gone, Dawn hastened to Woolton's side—it was a miracle the head of the wolf costume hadn't fallen off in all the excitement—and gently moved his shoulders.

"Go!" she hissed urgently to him. Thank goodness he was just beginning to wake up. "You need to get out of here  _now_!"

"Now?"

"Now, and you know how I hate repeating myself."

Woolton nodded. As he rose to his feet, his movements were slow and obviously pained. When he lifted his hooves to remove the wolf mask from his head, Dawn clicked her tongue at him.

"Wait until you're back at your place," she scolded him with a wagging finger. "We can't have anybody getting suspicious of us."

As Woolton staggered out of sight as quickly as he could, Jesse and two investigating officers—one a tiger, one a wolf, the sight of which sprayed an icy chill down Dawn's spine—rounded the corner to the street where Crossfire and Woolton were only a moment ago. Jesse feigned his confusion and dismay while Dawn explained that she had been out for an evening walk, and what a coincidence it was that they would all run into each other like this!

Mentally, however, she was going through her checklist.

_Friend made?_

Put a mammal in trouble, save them from it, and earn their trust. Crossfire was in her pocket now.

_Check. Seed planted?_

Well, there was no doubt in Dawn's mind that Crossfire would eventually figure out where to find the missing mammals. The rest would follow naturally.

_Check. Jesse and Woolton okay?_

She glanced around quickly. Jesse was still conversing with the cops, and Woolton was nowhere to be found.

_Check. Lionheart framed?_

Bellwether grinned to herself.

_Almost check._

* * *

_Day 4: Thursday, June 19_ _th_ _, 2016, 9:29 p.m._

* * *

For most of his adult life, Nick had slept, eaten, and relaxed in one-mammal apartments. He enjoyed living alone—the solitude, the peace, the freedom. Just four days ago, he would've reveled in it.

Now, however, he entered the apartment with its lights turned off, enveloped in a silence that gaped with absence.

A particular absence.

Where was Judy?

Ever since she had moved in, she had been there to greet him at night. Apparently, he was already so used to it—and so content with it—that he found himself nursing a stinging sense of loss upon coming home to an empty place.

And after enduring yet another stressful evening, he'd so looked forward to seeing her and giving in to her inexplicable manner of soothing and rejuvenating him—just by being herself.

Nick trudged into his bedroom, tossed his duffel bag into its compartment, and changed into a t-shirt and gym shorts. With a contemplative frown, he then settled himself on the couch and lay his head against the throw pillows.

It wasn't like he  _needed_  to go to bed right now.

He could wait.

 _You're hopeless, Nick Wilde,_ he sighed to himself as he closed his eyes.

* * *

 _Day 4: Thursday, June 19_ _th_ _, 2016, 10:36 p.m._

* * *

"Nick? Nick?"

Judy whispered the fox's name and shook his shoulder gently. Although she was surprised to find him sleeping on the couch, she had to feel thankful that she didn't have to debate with herself about whether to intrude into his bedroom. She needed to wake him.

This was unusual for her, trying to rouse a sleeping mammal. It was impolite at  _best_. But she had been trembling and short of breath her entire way home, and it hadn't stopped even after she'd entered the apartment and changed into her pajamas. The only way she could think to feel better was by seeing the rich, vibrant green eyes of her friend and roommate.

At last, they blinked unsteadily open. For a moment, Judy was startled by the way that they glowed in the dark, but then she remembered that that was normal for a lot of predators. Anyway, all that really mattered was the concern rising in them as he registered who had woken him. Her own eyes were beginning to water just by gazing into his.

"Carrots?" Nick said softly as he slowly sat up. "Is something wrong?"

Rather than answering right away, Judy crawled onto the couch and wrapped her arms firmly around his waist as she pressed her face against his chest. She noticed how hesitantly he raised his arms to return the embrace, but she was too grateful to apologize for her forwardness.

"I…" Her voice hitched a little. She swallowed to get it under control. "I just had a horrible nightmare, that's all."

After a moment, Nick angled his head near hers, enhancing the feeling of closeness between them. She melted into his warmth and the way that his arms tightened their hold on her as he shifted and leaned back into the throw pillows.

"So did I, Fluff," he murmured.

After a moment, Judy rolled off him and onto the couch so that she could curl up against his side, one of his arms remaining relaxed around her shoulder while she rested her paw on his rib.

They didn't realize that they had fallen asleep like that until they heard Judy's alarm blaring from inside her bedroom.

* * *

**Random A/N: I actually knew somebody who would regularly say that he was "finer than frog hair split nine ways" when asked how he was doing. He was a nice guy.**


	6. Don't Count Me Out

**A/N: I'm behind on answering reviews and messages! Sorry about that. I will make sure I get that done before the end of the weekend.**

 

* * *

_Push on me,_

_And I’ll push you back._

_In the end,_

_We’re gonna win._

_When you’re lost in a crowd,_

_You gotta play it loud._

_You gotta shout it_

_If you wanna get in._

_Feeling something—_

_It’s real and breathing._

_I feel like I don’t belong._

_I know it might be wrong,_

_But don’t you count me out._

_Don’t count me out…_

_—“Count Me Out,” by Pusherjones_

* * *

_Day 5: Friday, June 20_ _th_ _, 2016, 7:00 a.m._

* * *

It took Nick a moment to realize that the obnoxious noise interrupting his dream at quick, regular intervals wasn't just part of the dream itself. It was an alarm, bleating at him that playtime with oblivion was over. When he finally accepted it, he mentally prepared himself to swing his body up and start getting ready for the day, but a weight on his arm kept him pinned. He looked toward it and couldn't hide a small, surprised flinch when he found a pair of huge violet eyes just inches away from his face. Judy blinked guiltily at him as he gasped and clutched his chest.

"Morning, Fluff," he tried to chuckle it off, briefly squeezing her shoulder. "Come here often?" Then he winced and resisted the urge to slap himself.

_Ah, yes, the best way to diffuse an awkward situation—make an even more awkward joke. Off to a good start today._

Fortunately, Judy huffed amusedly. "Hey, there. I hope you weren't uncomfortable all night."

Nick shook his head with a yawn. "Not at all, actually." Well, his neck and back ached, and the arm beneath Judy's shoulders felt a bit tingly, but he meant it all the same. He'd slept soundly, and despite the initial shock of finding her so close to him, he considered it worth the tradeoff of waking up alone in his own bed.

"I'm glad," Judy said quietly with a sweet smile. "Thanks for being there for me last night. Sorry I woke you up, though."

"Don't be," Nick assured her. "It's not a problem. Besides, I was having a rough night myself. The company was welcome."

With a content hum, Judy let out a sigh so close to his neck that it danced past his fur to caress his skin, and he barely caught himself before he started leaning into it. "What happened?" the bunny asked in a sleepy murmur.

Nick pretended that he needed to shift into a more comfortable position so that he could have time to consider his answer. "I just… had a bad argument with someone. It kind of left me drained."

"What was it about?"

"I was trying to help, but they gave me the ol' side-eye, like usual," Nick responded.

Lifting her head and narrowing her eyes, Judy asked, "Because you're a fox?"

With a shrug, Nick replied, "Maybe."

Suddenly, Judy slammed her head onto his chest with a growl. Nick gasped and blinked rapidly while trying to recapture his breath.

"You deserve  _so much_ better than that, Nick!" she said fiercely, her voice muffled in his shirt. "I'm so  _frustrated_ , I could just—just—" Then she sighed and brought her sympathetic gaze back to meet his surprised one. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay, Fluff," Nick smirked. "Next time, I'll just sick you on 'em."

"Please do!" Judy agreed. There was no hint of a jest in her firm tone, and Nick felt simultaneously flattered and slightly frightened.

"So, uh, what about you? What made your night so bad?" he queried.

Judy allowed her head to plop onto his shoulder with a sigh. "Like I said, just a nightmare," she grumbled. A short but contemplative silence passed between them before she spoke again. "Anyway, I guess we need to get ready for work, huh?"

"We still have time," Nick answered hesitantly as he fought the urge to lay his cheek near the base of her ears.

"I'm sure we'll both keep saying that until there's no time left," Judy replied with a soft giggle and closed her eyes. "I'm going to shower in three… two… one…"

She made a prolonged grunting noise but otherwise didn't move an inch. Nick chuckled.

"Zero and three quarters…" Judy mumbled. "Zero and a half…"

"Not like you to be so slow to get up in the morning," Nick remarked, grinning at her. "Are you that tired?"

"No, just comfy," she responded, snuggling a bit closer.

It took a moment for Nick's lungs to remember how to do their jobs. Before he could think better of it, he turned onto his side and pulled her toward him. "Showers are overrated anyway. Did you know that they're predicting a drought this summer? We should just save the water for when we really need it."

Judy's light giggle tugged Nick's grin a little wider, and he found himself curling into her. "Well, I should at least go turn off the alarm. That beeping is starting to get on my nerves."

Truthfully, Nick had to agree with that.

With a displeased grimace, Judy pried herself out of Nick's arms, and reluctantly, he let her. She started to twist around to plant her feet on the floor but misjudged how close she was to the edge of the couch, rolling straight off it. Her landing was punctuated with a soft "Oof!" and swiftly followed by their peals of laughter.

Nick peeked down at her on the floor, wiping a tear from his eye as he regained control of himself. "Bunny overboard!" he chortled. "Shall I toss you a buoy, Admiral Hopps?"

"No, just let me drown!" Judy exclaimed between snickers as she covered her scarlet face with her paws.

Squishing his face against the fabric of the couch to muffle the sounds of his mirth, Nick barely heard Judy scramble to her feet and pad toward her bedroom. He looked up at her just as she was turning the doorknob, allowing him to catch the way that she coquettishly glanced at him over her shoulder before disappearing inside. It was enough to send shooting stars down his spine. As her door shut, he flung his arms wide and slumped back against the throw pillows. A moment later, the alarm stopped.

 _Falling hard,_ he mused to himself.  _Why am I not actively pursuing this again?_

Of course, he knew the answer to that question very well. And when he heard Judy exit her bedroom to lock herself in the bathroom, he sat up and felt around for where his phone had gotten lost in the crevices of the couch. Drawing it out, he inwardly groaned when he saw the waiting text from Mr. Big. It was a response to Nick's text about having caught Crossfire.

" _Good work, Nicky. I must say that I am pleasantly surprised,_ " it said. " _As a reward, you may present an idea for how to move forward tonight. There will be a meeting. Usual time, but at my home. See you there."_

Gaze fixing on the ceiling, Nick finally allowed himself time to review the events of last night.

 _Crossfire_.

How was she doing? Fuming in some cell, probably. But at least she was safe and unable to cause more trouble.

Idly wondering whether the police had decided to release her true identity yet, he thumbed through the trending news on his phone. He frowned. Deeper. Deeper still.

There was nothing at all about the vigilante bunny.

She was  _all over_  the news yesterday. The ZPD should have taken the chance to immediately assure the public that she had been caught. It should have been the talk of the city.

… Maybe it was still too early in the morning, so the news hadn't had a chance to get out yet?

That's what he decided to tell himself as he stood and ambled toward his bedroom to get dig out the diner's polo shirt and some slacks. The uneasy sensation tightening his gut—it was nothing.

Nothing at all.

Everything was fine.

His ear twitched when he heard Judy start singing. The fact that it was muted by the closed door and running water couldn't hide its smooth quality and happy tone.

 _Everything's fine_ , Nick smiled.

* * *

 _Day 5: Friday, June 20_ _th_ _, 2016, 7:35 a.m._

* * *

With long, thoughtful strokes, Judy brushed her fur as she studied herself blankly in the bathroom mirror. Away from Nick's comforting embrace, her close call the night before hit her mind with full force. She'd only acted as a vigilante for a few days, and it already felt more overwhelming than she had expected. Not that she'd been naïve enough to believe that it would be easy or that she wouldn't make enemies, but the expectation was nothing like the reality.  _Imagining_  that someone would want to arrest or even kill her was starkly different from  _knowing_ it, from being so  _close_ to it. Although she'd accused the Hustler of lying to protect his own tail, she acknowledged that he had nothing to gain from telling her that someone was gunning for her to die. Still, because of him, everything almost fell apart, and all it had taken was a single shot from his gun…

" _You're just one mammal,"_ he had said to her. And he was right. How long could she keep this up?

What would come to her first—prison time or death?

Before the hyperventilation could set in again, she lifted her chin and took several deep, calming breaths.

Fortunately, she'd never known when to quit, and she didn't intend to start learning now.

Rather than continuing to dwell on such dark thoughts, she decided to focus on happier ones—like maybe taking down the Hustler's mysterious organization. Now  _that_ brought a cheerful smile to her face.

After just a few more invigorated flourishes with her brush, she zipped herself into her serving dress, nodded in satisfaction at her reflection, and turned to skip out the door. She found Nick standing in front of the stove in the kitchen, flipping something on a pan. Stepping forward, she gasped delightedly when she realized it was a pancake. There was already a plate of them on the adjacent counter.

"Oh,  _thank you_ , Nick!" she squealed. "I  _love_ pancakes!"

"Such a presumptuous bunny you are," Nick quipped. "When did I say any of this was for you?"

Judy gave him a light, playful slap on the arm. "You can't fool me anymore, Slick. I know you're just a big softie."

The warm grin he granted her did wonders to further improve her mood.

Once he had inhaled a couple of pancakes, Nick declared that it was his turn to use the shower and left Judy munching on her breakfast at the table. Upon hearing the click of the lock on the bathroom door, she hurried to her room to retrieve a disposable phone she'd purchased after Nick left the department store last night, figuring she'd never know when she'd need it. Thank goodness she had.

In a moment, she had also found the business card that Assistant Mayor Dawn Bellwether had left for her. She smiled at it.

 _At least_ someone _believes in me!_

Quickly, she donned her earbuds and dialed Bellwether's number into her phone. Within seconds, the assistant mayor's squeakily jubilant voice came on the line.

"Hello, thank you for calling City Hall, this is Assistant Mayor Bellwether, how may I help you be anything today?" she chirped.

Smirking at the greeting, Judy adopted her alter ego's voice and answered. "Assistant Mayor Bellwether, I wasn't sure I'd catch you this early. It's Crossfire. I—"

"Oh, my shiny heavens,  _Crossfire_!" Bellwether crowed. "I didn't expect to hear from you so soon, but let me tell you, your melodious voice is a balm to my ears!"

"Uh, thank you," Judy blinked at the compliment. "Listen, I know that you probably have more knowledge than I do right now about the criminal activity of this city. There's a few particular guys I'm after—a couple of missing predators. One's a bobcat named Randol, and the other's an otter called Emmitt Otterton. I was there when the Hustler stole their case files, but do you know whether the ZPD had any leads on them?"

"Gosh, I don't think so," Bellwether replied with a click of her tongue. "If they did, I don't know anything about it. Sorry, hon."

"That's okay," Judy let out a small sigh. "I knew it was a long shot. Well, I'm also looking for the Hustler himself. Can you tell me anything about where he usually hangs out?"

Bellwether drew a long breath before responding. "I know he's been more prominent on the ZPD's radar lately, but he's a relatively small part of a bigger problem. The organization that he works with is called the Den of Thieves. From what we know, their whole shtick is just making life as miserable as possible for everybody else—especially anyone with a lot of money or authority—because they feel marginalized or something." Papers rustled in the background. "Let me see—I think I actually have a file on them somewhere—ah, here it is. Right! It's suspected that they have semi-regular meetings in Tundratown, but we haven't been able to sneak into one yet. One cop tried about a year ago and was promptly killed. Turns out they know who just about all the cops are." She paused for a moment. "The police suspect that the last meeting took place about a month ago at the home of one Antonio Big, a notorious crime boss. Maybe you could scope it out and infiltrate it. I can text you the address. I have your number on my caller ID."

Judy tapped her lip thoughtfully. "If even a cop couldn't do it, I'll have to be extra careful."

"Well, remember that most of the cops are huge. It's hard for them sneak around. But that's one of the benefits of being a small mammal, right?" Bellwether chuckled. "Nobody ever sees  _us_  coming."

"True," Judy nodded. Then she heard the shower turn off. "Hey, I've got to run, but yeah, could you text me that address? I'll probably go check it out tonight and see what I find out."

"Of course!" Bellwether sang. "Don't hesitate to call again if you need me, okay? You'll always have a friend at City Hall, Crossfire."

"Thank you, assistant mayor," Judy smiled, and she meant it. "That really means a lot to me."

After ending the call and seeing Bellwether's text pop up in her notifications, Judy settled back at the dining table to continue eating her pancakes. By then, they were looking a little dry, so she firmly squashed her mother's voice reminding her that the sugar was all still there and drowned them in a waterfall of maple syrup. As she was lifting her third forkful to her mouth, Nick sauntered out of the bathroom, his fur a bit scruffy where it wasn't concealed by his white polo shirt and slacks.

"Did you brush your fur at all?" she queried, tilting her head curiously at him.

Nick shook his head and grinned as he waggled his brows at her. "Nope. That smooth, impeccable sheen you see on my fur every day just settles into itself  _naturally_."

With a scoff and half-lidded stare, Judy replied, "Sure, Slick."

Now the fox was swaying his hips back and forth while weaving his paws through the air in some kind of odd little dance that she was sure was meant to look impressive. "Come on, Carrots, you don't need to be so jealous just because I'm capable of attracting all the ladies with my literally  _effortless_  good looks."

"Jealous?" Judy laughed. "You're right, I should stop being jealous of the  _dozens_ of drooling ladies who are lining up just for the chance to catch some of your mucus in a bottle." She pressed the edge of her paw against her brows and twisted in her chair to peer exaggeratedly around the living room. "Where  _did_ they all go anyway?"

When she turned back to Nick, grinning at her own joke, her heart took a tumble upon seeing him staring at her with an expression somewhere between fondness and uncertainty. He quickly schooled it away, though, replacing it with his default easy smirk. Then he walked slowly toward her.

With each step he took, Judy's chest tightened. Once he was right in front of her, it felt like someone had used her lungs to tie a bow around her heart. He bent toward her. Her breath evaporated.

And then he used his thumb to wipe a bit of maple syrup off her chin before straightening.

"Such an undignified bunny you are," Nick said. His smirk never wavered, but his voice was a bit… low. Low in a way that weakened her knees.

With a quick swallow, she drudged up her ability to speak. "Hey, I'll have you know that I am a  _very_ refined bunny."

"As opposed to  _original_ -fined," Nick said with a wink—dang it, Judy loved it when he did that—before thumping her lightly on the head with a knuckle. "I'll make our lunches in a jiffy. Then we can head out."

* * *

 _Day 5: Friday, June 20_ _th_ _, 2016, 7:51 a.m._

* * *

"What are these anyway?" Dawn murmured absentmindedly to herself as she looked at the papers in her hooves. She'd only grabbed them to sound convincing on the phone. Noticing that they were grant proposals for local research groups, she rolled her eyes and set them aside before picking up her ringing cell phone. Since she recognized the unsaved number, she didn't bother with any pleasantries when she accepted the call. "What?"

"I'll be taking care of the jaguar tonight." It was Doug, keeping his communication as concise as always.

"Splendid!" Dawn grinned. "Let me know when you're done."

"Will do." After a moment, the ram dryly observed, "You sound like you're in a good mood."

Humming cheerfully, Dawn replied, "Well, you've heard about that bunny vigilante, right? Crossfire?"

"Sure."

"Last night, I befriended her and then asked her to focus on finding the missing predators," Dawn continued, letting smugness color her tone. "She  _just_ called me to ask for information. She was already looking for Otterton and the Hustler. I directed her straight to Big's mansion. From there, I'm sure she'll find the predators, and she  _might_ even get the Den of Thieves out of my wool at the same time. I can hardly believe how perfect this is!" With a chuckle, she added, "I should really give Woolter a raise. His information has been invaluable."

"Just remember who's got the gun here," Doug remarked.

Dawn raised her brows and frowned. "Are you threatening me, Doug?"

"No," he answered, a shrug in his voice. "But if you plan on giving one guy a raise, I might just forget how to shoot until you give me one, too."

And with that, he hung up.

With a content sigh, Dawn sat back in her chair and let her head loll over the edge. She idly wondered if she should start practicing her acceptance speech for when she gets sworn in as mayor. It could happen any day now.

" _Smellwether_!" The nickname that she so hated bulldozed through her thoughts from the speaker of the landline telephone. " _Zootopia University is hounding me about those grant proposals! Bring them to my office!"_

Gathering up the papers that she had dismissed just a few minutes ago, Dawn hastily spouted, "Yes, sir! Coming, sir!" She scurried out of the office, but not before ensuring that her face was free of the scowl in which she wanted to let it rest.

 _Any day now, things are going to change_ , she reminded herself.

* * *

 _Day 5: Friday, June 20_ _th_ _, 2016, 6:34 p.m._

* * *

Although Judy hadn't yet visited all of the other districts, she already felt pretty sure that Tundratown was the worst one.

It was cold.  _Absurdly_ cold. On top of that, it was very white, which wasn't kind to her all-black disguise as Crossfire.

So there she was, in a body suit that hid her scent and identity but couldn't keep her warm, and she stuck out like a sore thumb almost everywhere she went. Even the occasional alleyway retained a glow from the pearly-white snow. Since her first visit to Tundratown two nights ago had occurred after the sun had already fallen, she hadn't needed to worry as much about being seen. Now, she kept jogging back and forth in alleys that she could tell didn't get much traffic so that she could keep her body heated as she waited for darkness.

By now, the sunset had almost run its course, but it felt like it had taken  _hours_. Judy found herself regretting rushing to replenish her supplies and then come here so quickly after work when she could have spent a little quality time with Nick first.

With an exhausted sigh, she slowed to a stop and balanced her paws on her knees as she fought to catch her breath. Now that her roommate was on her mind, she glanced around furtively before fishing her cell phone—her regular one—from one of the pockets in her belt. Unlocking it, she opened her messages and scrolled to the last brief conversation that she'd had with Nick.

" _Don't forget, Carrots—you, me, popcorn, and The Office, tonight. If you're a good bunny, maybe we can even have some sweet cheese and crackers. ;)"_

When she'd seen that text an hour ago, Judy had replied,  _"Well, maybe I want sour cheese and crackers this time."_

Before she had been able to dwell much on the lameness of her comeback, Nick had retorted,  _"See, this is why I'm the cook, and you're not."_

Then he'd followed it up a minute later.

" _Be safe out there."_

After reviewing the texts, Judy realized that she grinning. Why was she grinning? Ugh, she knew why she was grinning, and the knowledge made her simultaneously giddy and exasperated with herself.

She stuffed the phone back into her belt with another sigh. It was almost dark enough for her to start skulking in the shadows, but she still rapidly tapped her foot in a show of impatience. The sooner she could get this job done, the better. She had a  _very_ important movie night to attend.

Finally, the streets were clothed in the dark gray hues of early night, and Judy dared to venture from the alley where she'd spent the last forty minutes. Although she still tried to stick to those narrow pathways between buildings as much as possible, it was much easier to get around when she could occasionally use a street without too much concern. In her head, she kept repeating the address that Bellwether had texted her.

It took another half hour of tiptoeing around before Judy came upon the long, winding road that she knew would lead to the mansion. She groaned when she considered how long it would take her to walk that whole way. After taking only a few steps forward, her ears swiveled to more fully analyze the sound of an approaching car, and she dove into a nearby snow bank.

Ears down, she peeked over the edge of the bank to watch the car—a limo, apparently—glide slowly and carefully along the icy road. She squinted her eyes at it, trying to decide if she dared do what she was thinking of doing.

She did.

Just as it was passing by, she shot up and crawled with a desperate speed toward it. The fact that she was sure she looked ridiculous was just another reason why she was glad to have the nighttime darkness as a cover. As the car crunched around a small bend, Judy leapt onto the rear bumper as lightly as she could. Fortunately, it was a huge limo— _Who uses this thing? Polar bears?_ she wondered—so it was easy for her to settle her small body onto it. If only the metal weren't so freezing against her rump.

Although it felt nice to rest her feet, she reminded herself to stay on alert. There was no guarantee exactly where this vehicle was going. She kept her eyes on the mailboxes, fences, and plaques adorning the large, stately homes that they passed, grateful for the taillights and occasional streetlights that made up for her lack of night vision.

The sound of iron squeaking on hinges made her flinch. Then, for a moment, Judy's heart raced in panic when the limo suddenly lurched into a turn. She reached up instinctively and grasped the windshield wiper of the back window to steady herself as she tried to figure out where they were going now. To her relief, she spotted a gold plaque fastened to the top of an elegant barred iron gate, where she saw Antonio Big's address lit up in the red hues of the left rear blinker.

 _So this limo belongs to Big!_  Judy realized triumphantly.  _Perfect!_

She nearly gasped when she realized that the gate was being attended by an enormous polar bear in a suit, paralyzing her with fear for a moment. Luckily, his gaze was roaming the main road from which they had come; he never noticed her before the limo left his line of sight. Heaving a sigh, she relaxed again.

Down a long, long driveway the limo went, finally arriving at a huge and stately mansion themed with smooth columns and muted colors. The occasional golden-orange light seeped into the dark air through the latticed windows. For a moment, Judy simply gawked at it, but when she heard the limo doors open, she sucked in a breath and scrambled under the vehicle. She watched the feet of two polar bears— _Oh, so the limo really is for polar bears_ —as they shuffled past, followed by the feet and tails of—of—

Blinking rapidly, her jaw fell open as she registered the tails of a weasel, fennec, and red fox.

_They're here! They're really here!_

After waiting for them to disappear into the mansion, Judy glanced around to ensure that there was no one to see her before she hurried toward the nearest window, which she saw was the type that could be slid open. She stood on tiptoe to look inside, noted the lever keeping the window locked, and then quickly ducked, heart pounding furiously, when she nearly made eye contact with yet another polar who was stationed at a door across the hall, which was visible through the open door of the room belonging to the window.

Biting her lip in thought for a moment, she slowly reached for a pebble on the ground, tossed it at the glass, and then ran to hide behind a nearby decorative bush. Nothing happened at first, so she repeated her actions and waited once more. Finally, she heard the lever snap just before the window rose. Through the tiny branches and leaves of the bush, she could see a polar bear carefully scrutinizing the area, his nose sniffing the air suspiciously. Soon, however, he retreated back inside and closed the window. Judy held her breath as she waited to hear if the lever would pop back into place.

It didn't happen.

Grinning in triumph, Judy walked in a crouch to the next window, peeked through it just long enough to see that no one was on the other side of it, and threw a pebble at it, too. Then she rushed back to the first window, glanced into it, and, seeing that the polar bear had left to investigate the other pebble, pushed the window open as gently as she could. With that done, she jumped up and pulled herself onto the ledge. Just as she let herself drop into the room and slid the window back into place, she heard the other window open, and she had to suppress a giggle as she imagined the poor bear's frustration as he once again searched for a culprit.

However, she immediately refocused her attention and considered the room in which she had found herself. It appeared to be a parlor, the kind she imagined wealthy mammals would take their guests to chat over cups of tea and plates of biscuits. Ah, yes, there was a teapot surrounded by used teacups and a few half-eaten scones on the round wooden table in the middle of the mauve carpet. Everything looked sized for large mammals, though. Floral patterns abounded.

Judy's ears perked as she heard the lumbering steps of the polar bear returning. She managed to squish herself underneath a huge recliner. For minutes—maybe only six or seven, but it felt like more—she remained there, racking her brain to figure out what to do next, when she picked up the sound of small wheels squeaking lightly into the room. Doing her best to twist her head around in the confined space, she discovered that a food cart had stopped in front of the table just a few feet away, completely covered with an ivory-colored cloth. While the bear who had pushed it into the room was gathering the dirty dishes with his back turned to her— _Gosh, there are so many bears here!_ —she dashed silently out of her hiding place and slipped onto the bottom shelf of the cart. Once the gentle clattering of porcelain on metal ceased, the cart started moving again. Just a minute later, it passed into a room that immediately slammed Judy's senses with a variety of sizzling sounds, shouts, and tantalizing scents; it seemed she was in a kitchen. She heard the bear who was pushing the cart remove the tea set and demand some new dishes. After they were loaded on top of the cart, they promptly left.

Judy strained her ears as they went down what she assumed was another hallway, trying to catch the faintest hint of—

Aha! In the distance, someone was talking with a reedy yet authoritative tone.

"… most of you have accomplished your missions quite admirably. The Zootopian City Hall has begun to take notice of us. Don't worry, the other Senior thieves and I will continue ensuring that your civilian identities remain protected, but be on your guard. The more successful we become, the more effort the ZPD will put into…"

As the cart turned, Judy chanced a quick look around from beneath the inch or so of empty space between the fringe of the cloth and the little shelf on which she hid. All around her were predators, most notably the ones with the most unsavory reputations—lots of foxes, weasels, hyenas, coyotes, and just a smattering of hardened bears, wolves, and various felines. All of them were wearing darkly colored outfits that concealed the details of their bodies and faces, their mouths covered by voice distorters. Her heart lurched, and she forgot to pay attention to the rest of what the speaker was saying.

She realized that she was heading straight into the middle of the meeting. And for all intents and purposes, she was literally being delivered to it on a platter.

* * *

 _Day 5: Friday, June 20_ _th_ _, 2016, 7:32 p.m._

* * *

"Are we ready?" Nick asked Duke as he pulled on his mask and voice distorter.

The disguised weasel was sitting on the floor of the parlor—one of several in Big's ludicrously large mansion—clicking and typing rapidly on the laptop before him. "Ready as I could ever make a hopeless case like you, Wilde." With a few final taps, he closed the laptop, tucked it under his arm, and started moving toward the door. "I'll get this to the tech guy."

That left only Nick and Finnick. While the former was busy smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt, the latter was yanking his own mask over his face. For a moment, neither of them said a word.

"Guess we're really going to look for those mammals, huh?" Finnick muttered just before hiding his mouth with his voice distorter.

"That's the plan," Nick nodded, "assuming everyone votes in favor of it."

"It'd be good to have Otterton back," Finnick remarked with an idleness that didn't fool Nick for a second. "The place ain't the same without 'im. He was always nice to everybody, no matter who or what they were. Even you," he added with a small chuckle.

Nick huffed as he smirked at the comment and glanced at the framed photograph of Otterton and his family on top of the hearth next to him. "Even me."

"You heard what happened to him, right?"

Shaking his head, Nick answered, "Not much. Last I heard, Manchas was driving him here, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," Finnick replied as he checked the contents of his utility belt. "Then Manchas said that he suddenly started screamin' 'bout Night Howlers and attacked 'im." He shrugged. "Sounds too crazy to be true, but Manchas is a pretty honest guy."

For a moment, Nick just absorbed this information. Then he sighed. "I don't know what to think, but somebody needs to find Otterton."

"Agreed," Finnick grunted. He patted Nick's arm as he shuffled past him and out of the parlor. "Ya did good, Nick," he said gruffly. "Let's keep doin' good."

Not until he heard the door click shut did Nick sigh to himself. "Yes, let's."

Finally decided that he was satisfied with his appearance, he turned to follow his friends before hesitating. He pulled out his phone from his belt, unlocked it, and scrolled through his social media news feed. His eyes rapidly scanned the headlines and hashtags, searching for something that wasn't there.

Still not a single word about Crossfire.

He bit back a worried growl and shoved his phone back into his belt, repeating the mantra that had been going through his mind all day— _Everything is fine, everything is fine, everything is fine_ …

Then, heaving a deep breath, he left the parlor and walked across the hall to the ballroom. Without pausing, he took in the familiar sight of the hundred or so mammals. In some way, all of them represented the marginalized populations of Zootopian society. Foxes, hyenas, weasels, and coyotes had all been born disadvantaged, centuries of stereotypes and undeservedly negative reputations limiting their potential before they even had the chance to prove themselves. Others were predators from more widely accepted species who had gotten into some trouble with the law, perhaps even served time, and now felt that they had nowhere else to go. Whether they were innocent or guilty was beside the point; a conviction was practically as good as a death sentence when it came to finding employment. What else could they do but join an organization like the Den of Thieves?

Polar bear waiters were stationed next to food carts that dotted the ballroom floor. Nick came upon the one nearest him, picked up a glass of red wine, and a took a sip to calm his nerves.

_Everything is fine._

Glancing toward the stage, he was relieved that he hadn't missed anything important. Mr. Big and several other Senior Thieves—a wolf, two coyotes, a silver fox, and an enormous polar bear, all of them the only mammals in the room besides Mr. Big who didn't wear masks—stood in a straight line with their paws respectfully clasped behind their backs. A masked hyena was placidly positioned next to Mr. Big, who was addressing the gathering from atop a podium. Nick crossed his arms and leaned back against a wall on one side of the room as he watched the proceedings.

"For our first order of business, let us introduce our newest Senior Thief," Big said, motioning to the hyena beside him. "Throughout the six years of his membership, Wilbur Striperson has consistently upheld the ideals of the Den of Thieves. He has fulfilled all of his duties and assignments with dedication and cunning, garnering a nearly flawless track record. Many of you have had the pleasure of working under his direction. As our organization continues to grow, we need leaders like him—leaders with skill, vision, and loyalty—to help bring us into the future."

Big took a moment to sweep his hidden eyes over the crowd. "All of you know why we remain disguised even at our own meetings. If any of you are caught by the ZPD or any other organization that seeks to foil our purpose, you will be unable to compromise anyone beyond the Senior Thieves or those in your subgroups. However, those of us in the Senior Thieves present ourselves as faces of the Den of Thieves. We put ourselves at greater risk in order to make our indignation clear. Once Wilbur removes his mask, you will know his identity, and there will be no turning back for him. He has chosen to sacrifice his anonymity for the good of our cause. As he performs this task tonight, you will show him the respect that he deserves by bowing your heads." With that, he turned toward the hyena with a nod. "Striperson, if you would."

The hyena—Wilbur Striperson, Nick reminded himself, committing the name to memory—lifted his chin before raising his claws to carefully pull away his mask. The face beneath it revealed a scarred who appeared to be somewhere in his forties, scarred but still filled with a restrained vitality. This was a mammal who had all the zeal of someone who had never forgotten how he had been wronged but was also intelligent enough to know how to properly channel his ire.

For a moment, Nick and the other mammals in the ballroom bowed their heads toward him. Then Striperson stepped back to take his place in the line with the other Senior Thieves. Once again, Big focused his attention on the rest of the ballroom.

"Speaking of growth, I will now introduce a new initiative," Big said. Somehow, his voice forcefully filled every inch of the ballroom despite his size. "As we increase in size and influence, and as we continue to suffer the dismissal of the city authorities, it is time we begin forcing Zootopia to take us seriously. The other Senior Thieves and I have been discussing the possibility of orchestrating kidnappings for ransom and even occasional assassinations of prominent public figures."

Immediately, the air tensed throughout the room. Nick's eyes widened as his fur fought to prickle against the confines of his head-to-toe outfit. Some of the mammals exchanged uncomfortable glances while others nodded approvingly to themselves. However, no one dared interrupt Mr. Big. No, not Mr. Big.

"I understand that this is a bold new direction in which to head," Big went on, keeping an iron-tight hold on the crowd's attention. "However, as we continue to suffer dismissal from those in power, it is clear that we must demand the attention and respect that they will otherwise refuse to give."

At this, Big's gaze briefly flickered in his direction, and Nick could've sworn it was meant for him.

"Keep in mind that we are not seeking to change that which we cannot change," the shrew elaborated, lightly shaking a finger back and forth. "We may have evolved, but we are still animals. Our aim is to punish the society that continuously treats us as though  _we_  should be punished merely for our existence. If change comes as a result of our efforts—" He paused to shrug. "Well, that would be a bonus."

For a moment, an anxious yet ponderous silence pervaded the room. Nick himself was staring aimlessly in front of him, trying to calm the thunderous beats of his heart and not think about the blood, the torn fabric...

 _Everything is fine_ , he told himself yet again. How many times had he needed to repeat it today?  _Everything is fine_.

But as panic loomed over him, a single image floated into his mind, unbidden.

Those warm violet eyes.

What he wouldn't give for Judy's soothing presence right now.

No time to dwell on that, though. Big was speaking again, and although nausea was trickling into his gut, Nick forced himself to listen.

"For our next item of business, one of our subgroups has recently completed a mission that involved stealing records from City Hall," he said. "The records were for predators whom the Den of Thieves understands are innocent of the crimes for which they have been imprisoned. Now the assigned leader of that subgroup—one you may know as the Hustler—is going to present ideas about some next steps that we can take as an organization to further accomplish our purpose. When he's done, we'll hold a vote that will determine whether we will follow his suggestions. Without further ado…"

As Big trailed off, Nick pushed away from the wall and walked up the steps to the stage with as relaxed a mien as he could manage. A screen was gradually lowered at its rear, and the Senior Thieves discreetly moved away to join the crowd. Nick blinked for a moment at the light of the projector at the back of the room—briefly noting that he could see Duke sending him a thumbs up from his place beside it—and then looked up to meet a hundred gazes. He hoped that his gulp wasn't audible.

"Thanks for being here, everyone," he began, his silver tongue thankfully taking over. "I'd like to personally offer my congratulations to Wilbur Striperson. Looking forward to seeing what you bring to the table." After exchanging genial nods with the hyena, Nick continued. "But I'm sure you're all as anxious as I am to finish with this and get to the cake, so let's move on."

He paused to let a few chuckles peter out. Behind him, the screen started sliding through images of the records that he and his friends had found on their USB a few nights ago. Motioning toward it with one paw, Nick launched into his presentation. "These are the mammals who have had serious convictions forced on them by incompetent officers and lawyers who probably harbor some kind of prejudice toward predators, especially those who tend to be pushed toward the fringes of society. They and their families have suffered from humiliation, doubt, and financial hardship for no reason. The Zootopian justice system failed them, so we have attempted to give those mammals a clean slate." He fully faced the crowd with his paws behind his back. "With the information contained in these records, we propose holding a food and clothing drive for these predators' families. We submit this proposal to a vote. All those in favor, please raise your paws."

An overwhelming majority of the paws went up. In fact, Nick noted with satisfaction that he didn't think there was anyone who  _didn't_ lift a paw.

"Very good. My group will figure out the details and come prepared with them at the next meeting," he said. With a nod, he cleared his throat and kept talking as the screen began alternating images of the case files he had stolen earlier in the week. "Now, some of you may have heard some rumors about fourteen missing predators. One of them is Emmitt Otterton, whom you may remember as Big's florist. He's sat in on a few of our meetings." A few of the mammals mumbled to each other in surprised and dismayed tones when they recognized the otter in question. Nick raised his voice to keep things moving. "Since so many of the disappearances have occurred closely together, and due to the fact that all of the missing mammals are predators, we suspect serial kidnapping. However, the ZPD has been unable to find any of them so far. We don't know why, but it doesn't matter. They need to be found." He took a quick but deep breath. "We are proposing that we expend some of our resources to start searching for these predators ourselves, and we submit this proposal to a vote. All those in favor, please raise your paws."

This time, only about half of the paws went into the air, and some seemed tentative. Nick suddenly felt very conscious of his shoulders as he tried to keep them from slumping.

"Okay, not a lot of you seem to be in support of this," he said, feigning confidence as expertly as always. "What's the issue?"

"Sounds too much like vigilantism to me," a wolf piped up.

"You think we're much different from vigilantes already?" scoffed a weasel nearby.

"I have no problem causing trouble or helping our own," the wolf answered testily, "but we're not the ZPD."

"No one's saying we have to be the ZPD," sighed a coyote. "You want to help our own? This is a good way to do it. There are fourteen fellow predators who need help."

"We already risk our necks enough as it is!" snapped a lion, irritably tossing a paw toward the screen. "And none of these missing preds is a species that lives on the edge like we do. I mean, they're still preds, sure, but we don't owe as much to them."

"What about Otterton?" the same weasel from before interjected. "Remember, he's missing, too."

"I think most of us would stick our necks out at least a little for Otterton," admitted another wolf. "I mean, come on—it's Otterton. We all like him. But going out of our way to search for him and the other predators? That just sounds unnecessarily risky. Not to mention it would take time away from our other operations, and I don't know about everyone else, but I'm barely keeping my life together as it is."

"So what you're all saying," huffed the same coyote from earlier, "is that you only want to help our own as long as they're not too different, or as long as it's  _convenient_ for you."

"What are you trying to say?" snarled the wolf who had first voiced his doubt.

"You  _know_ what I'm saying," returned the coyote, turning to fully face the wolf. "I'm saying you're a  _coward_."

"I'd clamp my little mouth shut with a  _wire_ if I were you," growled the wolf.

Hurriedly, Nick motioned for Duke to turn off the projector as he waved his paws placatingly over the gathering. "Okay, I can see that this subject has a hit a sore spot for some of you, so let's—"

But the coyote was already rounding on the wolf. Despite being smaller, he boldly shoved the wolf before him, who promptly shoved back. The coyote fell against a fox, who elbowed him off as one of the coyote's friends attempted to deliver a splendid left hook at the wolf.

It didn't take long for the previously collected atmosphere to devolve into one of chaos as mammals pushed, hit, and kicked each other. Pinching his nose, Nick considered joining if only to try to strongarm them into ceasing their childishness, but he knew his meager formal training would only do so much good in a free-for-all melee.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick spotted Big whispering something to the polar bear standing stoically next to him. Just as the bear was straightening up and opening his formidable jaws—likely to bellow at everyone at settle down—a single crash resounded throughout the room. But it wasn't the crash that instantly snagged everyone's attention.

It was the yelp of surprise.

There were some females in the Den of Thieves, but like all the males, they used distorters to conceal their voices. This feminine voice was unchanged by technology. It was small but high-pitched.

And Nick realized with a plummeting stomach that it sounded all too familiar.

"What's a bunny doing here?!" exclaimed a lion as Nick leaped into the crowd and started pushing his way toward the source of the noise.

"It's the bunny vigilante from the news!" cried a hyena, and Nick tried to move faster.

As irate voices continued demanding to know why she was there, Nick stumbled his way between a couple of mammals and finally laid his eyes on Crossfire. Ears hanging and shoulders hunched as she swiveled her head quickly around, she was seated on a toppled food cart, surrounded by ruined slices of cake.

Big's voice was suddenly on the stage behind him. "That bunny vigilante has meddled in our operations and seems intent on continuing to do so. We thought that she had been caught by the ZPD, but apparently, that is not the case."

Nick ignored the glare that he could feel being drilled into his spine.

"Don't let her leave," Big commanded with that baffling casual charisma of his. "We'll need to… deal with her."

Eyes flicking rapidly around, Nick watched as several of the mammals started to lunge toward Crossfire. She dashed away from their grasps only to bump gracelessly into a hulking bear who stepped into her path. The bear reached toward her.

Before he was fully aware of his actions, Nick rushed forward and grabbed the bunny's paw, yanking her back to the food cart and close to his side.

"Hold on, let's not get carried away!" he shouted over the din of throaty, frustrated noises. "There's no need for—"

"Out of the way, fox!" demanded a tiger who towered over him and had no qualms about brandishing his claws. Nick flinched at the sight but didn't move.

Instead, he opened his mouth, hoping that something brilliant would come out.

However, it was another shrill female voice that saved the day.

"I  _demand_ that you stop this  _at once_!" it screeched. "That bunny saved my life!"

Blinking, Nick glanced around until he saw Fru Fru, Big's feisty daughter, standing with her little fists clenched in front of the very polar bear who had thwarted Crossfire's escape attempt a moment ago. A sapphire-blue dress was wrapped around her little body; whatever she had been doing, she hadn't initially intended to be part of this meeting. She glared first at the surrounding mammals, then turned it toward her father on the stage.

Her father paused before pointing at Crossfire. " _This_ bunny?"

"Yes,  _that_ bunny, Daddy," Fru Fru replied as she rolled her eyes. "Don't you  _ever_ watch Ewetube?"

Big turned toward the polar bear nearest him, his bushy eyebrows crinkled together like one big shrub. "What is she talking about?" he murmured.

Clicking her tongue exasperatedly, Fru Fru marched toward the stage. Upon reaching the steps, which were too tall for her, she regally lifted her chin and held out her paw as though she were waiting for someone to kiss her rings. In a moment, a polar bear positioned one of his thick fingers underneath it, allowing her to keep her balance while she stepped into the palm of his other paw with all the grace of a fairytale princess.

Once upon the stage, she trotted toward the podium and waited with graceful patience for another bear to lift her on top of it. Then, she whipped out her tiny phone and showed it to her father. The curious silence throughout the room was only slightly broken by the faint sounds of the video displaying Crossfire's altercation with the rhinos at the bar.

At length, Fru Fru put her phone away and then folded her arms, staring expectantly at her father. He fixed Crossfire with a hard, contemplative gaze.

Then he smiled. A little.

"You have done me a great service," he drawled, spreading his palms amiably. "I shall take your kindness and pay it forward. Let her go."

The polar bear next to him turned a flabbergasted expression toward him. "But Boss—"

"This  _one_ time," Big interrupted. "She will be spared this one time. Let her go."

This was apparently good enough for Fru Fru. She wordlessly demanded to be taken down from the podium, and the nearest polar bear obliged. Skittering between the stunned and surly predators, she came to stand before Nick and Crossfire with a pleased grin on her face and extended her paw to the bunny.

"Hey, I don't think I ever properly introduced myself before," she said. "I'm Fru Fru, Mr. Big's daughter."

"Crossfire," the bunny introduced herself in return. "I love your dress."

"Oh, thank you!" Fru Fru squealed, shyly swishing her skirt back and forth.

"Hustler!" Big called out, and Nick jumped to attention. "Show the bunny out. Make  _sure_ that she leaves."

Nick swallowed. "Of course, sir."

It was only then that he realized he was still holding tightly to her paw. He could barely make out her eyes narrowing at him behind her mask, and he quickly snatched his paw away.

"Well, follow me," he said as he stepped toward the mammals who had remained standing around them. This time, they parted without a fuss, although Nick felt certain that he could see them scowling behind their masks.

He led Crossfire through the labyrinth of hallways, nodding gratefully at the polar bear attending the front door as they passed through its threshold. Once outside, he crossed his arms tightly over his chest and leaned against the iron railing of the porch steps. For a second, he watched the bunny continue walking away without even sparing him a glance.

"I see that you've given absolutely no thought to anything that I've told you," he said. "How did you escape the police anyway?"

She turned on her heel and stared for a moment. "Maybe you're not the only one with friends in high places, Hustler. And I did give it thought. I just realized that you were wrong," she answered, but Nick caught the smidgen of hesitance in her voice. Then she set a fist on her hips as she regarded him thoughtfully. "But what about you? Who are  _you_ protecting?"

Nick straightened and let his fists fall to his sides. "What do you mean, who am  _I_ protecting? Didn't you see all that? I'm protecting the predators who constantly get the short end of the stick in this society! I'm protecting my pack!"

"Your pack?" Crossfire scoffed. "You're nothing like them! You're better than them!"

A beat passed.

"Better?" Nick repeated, genuinely surprised by the remark.

Crossfire sighed and shook her head slowly at the snowy ground. "All I know is that you were the only one in there who saw me as a living being and not just a pest to exterminate," she said softly. "Well, besides Fru Fru."

With a shrug, Nick replied, "Yeah, Fru Fru's not so bad."

"Hey, look at us," Crossfire said, a smirk in her tone. "We finally agree on something."

Electing to ignore that observation, Nick pinched his nose for a moment as he considered his words.

"You eavesdropped on our meeting, right?" he finally asked, continuing when he saw her nod. "So you know what we're doing for other mammals. You know we're trying to do good. So why don't you at least leave  _us_ alone, even if you insist on beating up other criminals to your heart's content?"

"That's not what  _I_ see in there," the bunny retorted, gesturing irritably at the mansion. "I see a bunch of thieves and would-be murderers who are angry about their lots in life and are using it as an excuse to take what they want, even if it hurts someone else." She paused. "Even if… if it means killing someone like me."

Nick kicked idly at a pebble, ruminating. "What if other mammals  _deserve_  to be hurt?"

"Maybe it shouldn't be about what they deserve, but what they  _need_."

"You don't think the authorities of this city  _need_  to be knocked down a few pegs?"

It took a moment for Crossfire to respond. "I think that they need to be treated like reasonable mammals who are capable of change before you just pass judgment on them and start destroying their lives."

They fell into silence. Then Nick chuckled humorlessly.

"A lot of these points are moot as long as we're both trying to take the law into our own paws, you know," he pointed out before huffing resignedly. "Look, we both know this isn't changing anything. I'll keep going after those who wield and abuse disproportionate amounts of power, and you'll keep… I don't know, kicking people who just commit random crimes, no matter what they are."

Crossfire sighed again. Nick couldn't tell if it was a frustrated sigh or a thoughtful one. Maybe both.

"Whatever you think of it, that  _is_ my pack in there," he told her. "It's not perfect, but I'm going to protect it." For a few seconds, he just stared at her, taking in the discouraged slope of her shoulders. "Now please get out of here before I have to make you."

She seemed to hesitate, but just before he could repeat himself, she pivoted and dashed away with a swiftness that only a bunny could muster. Nick watched her sprint into the shadows and quickly lost sight of her.

Alone in the darkness, Nick once again felt the cold seeping through his outfit and into his bones. It wasn't just because of the weather.

And once again, the color violet filled his thoughts. He let out a yearning breath through his nose.

Was it time to go home yet?

He had a very important movie night to attend.

* * *

**A/N: Next week's update _miiiiight_ be a bit late because I still need to tweak the chapter a bit, but I've got a stupidly busy week ahead of me. Rest assured, though, that I will do my utmost to have the next chapter ready in time. :)**


	7. The Event of the Season

**A/N: I know, I know. This update is** _**ludicrously** _ **late. Life has been kicking me around with far greater ferocity than I had anticipated when I last posted.**

 **However, I fully intend to get back to a regular updating schedule. It might be every** _**other** _ **weekend instead of** _**every** _ **weekend, or maybe even just once a month (I have a lot of things going on, sorry!), but at least it would be regular. In the meantime, I hope that you can forgive me and enjoy this chapter.**

**Also, I will catch up on all of the comments and reviews. I greatly appreciate hearing from you. :)**

**Many thanks to Camoss and The StarsShadow15 for looking over this so quickly when I abruptly and excitedly announced to them that I had finished it. Such kind beta readers. :) Read their stuff!**

**Extra special thanks to Libious, who has done more for me in the past several months than could rightly be expected. :) Thanks for being my best friend, Libby. One of these days, I'll really earn it.**

**If you haven't read his work, you definitely should! :D**

**And without further ado…**

* * *

 

_Masquerading as a man with a reason,_

_My charade is the event of the season,_

_And if I claim to be a wise man,_

_It surely means that I don’t know…_

_—“Carry On, My Wayward Son,” by Kansas_

* * *

_Day 6: Saturday, June 21_ _st_ _, 2016, 6:45 a.m._

* * *

The combination of shifting fur and the gray sunlight peeking through the window gently prodded Judy's eyes to flutter open. Blinking, she inhaled slowly through her nose and took stock of her surroundings. It was morning. Not too late in the morning—she wasn't running late for work, thank goodness. Her sleeping laptop was open on the coffee table, an empty popcorn bowl next to it. Yet again, she was on the couch. And yet again, Nick was there, too.

Last she remembered, they were watching the third episode of the first season of  _The Office_ , which was more amusing than she'd anticipated. It was a refreshing way to end another long, nerve-wracking evening, and Nick had seemed equally grateful for the diversion. At some point, she had ended up curled against Nick's side, his arm slung over her shoulders. Then her consciousness had drifted away from her grasp. Now she saw that they had both fallen asleep and tipped over at some point. Her back was pressed up against the couch as her cheek rested on his collar bone and her paw on his chest. Her shoulder was still held in his arm, his breaths even and relaxed. For a minute, she just watched him dream.

But he wasn't really dreaming, apparently. He finally cracked the morning silence by mumbling groggily, "Are we going to make a habit out of this?"

Judy giggled softly. "We shouldn't, but it  _is_  kind of nice. Did you sleep okay?"

"You mean besides having to listen to your snoring?" Nick quipped. "Sure."

Jaw falling indignantly open, Judy raised her head to glare at him. "I do  _not_ snore."

"You  _do_  snore," he insisted. "And you sound like an adorable, shy little tea kettle." He only flinched a little when Judy teasingly smacked his chest. With a tone somewhere between a chortle and a whine, he added, "Hey, this is an environment of welcoming, and you should just get the hell out of here, okay, Fluff?"

Giggling again, Judy retorted, "Oh, Nick, I'm sorry. I've always been your biggest flan."

Nick quietly laughed, its warmth enthralling to Judy's heart, which pumped faster for a moment. "That's  _such_ a bad joke."

"That show is ridiculous, and I love it so far," Judy remarked with a grin, letting her eyes slide closed as she returned to snuggling with the fox.

"Knew you would," Nick murmured contentedly.

Silence settled over them as the temptation to doze won its battle against their minds. The victory lasted only until Judy's alarm started blaring at 7:00 a.m.

With a soft groan, Judy muttered, "Okay, time to get up, Nick."

"You first," he said as he swung his free arm over his eyes.

"Lazy fox."

"Energizer bunny."

Judy pushed herself off the couch with a chuckle and crawled around his legs to get to the floor. "Fine, I will continue being the responsible one in this friendship, since you simply can't be bothered."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Nick yawned and stretched, watching her blearily as she padded toward her bedroom.

She shook her head with a small grin. As she placed a paw on her doorknob, she cast one more glance over her shoulder at him and was gratified to catch him smirking with an unguarded warmth at her; he quickly looked away with a well-played casual nonchalance, but Judy knew what she had seen. And it made her grin wider.

Suppressing a delighted giggle, she let herself inside her bedroom, turned off the alarm, and flopped onto her bed, allowing herself a moment to stare contemplatively at the ceiling. Then she got up to retrieve her secret disposable phone from her closet and, as expected, saw one unanswered text from Assistant Mayor Bellwether.

" _So how'd it go? Give me allllll the juicy details lolz!_ " it read.

Despite questioning the assistant mayor's cheerful manner of addressing such a serious topic, Judy couldn't help letting out a huff of amusement. She rapidly tapped out a reply.

" _I got in and heard about some of the things that they're planning for the near future._ "

She was in the middle of typing an additional text when Bellwether's response arrived.

" _OMG Crossfire that's so great! Do you have evidence? If you do I can give it to chief bogo and he can plan a raid!"_

In just a few strokes, Judy finished her text, glancing at the carrot pen on her nightstand.

" _Yeah, I was just about to say that I caught some of the meeting in a recording. I'll bring it over to you as soon as I can._ "

Bellwether wrote back immediately.

" _Fantastic! You're the best Crossfire! Ok see ya real soon!_ "

A knock at the door caused Judy to jump, and she swallowed a gasp as her free paw flew against her chest.

"Carrots?" came a familiar voice from the other side.

It was Nick. She silently let out a relieved breath, although she shook her head at herself for imagining that it could have been anyone else. "Yeah?" she called out, glad that it sounded calmer than she felt.

"Did you want to shower first again?" Nick asked.

"Oh," Judy took another breath. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay," Nick replied. "I'll start breakfast, then."

Judy smiled fondly toward the door, despite knowing he couldn't see it. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"No problem," Nick answered, though she could tell by its distance that he was already in the kitchen.

In the silence that followed, Judy sighed softly to herself and glanced at her closet. Behind the door rested her alter ego's disguise. Was it possible that she could sneak it to the restaurant so that she could put it on immediately after her shift ended and begin investigating? Coming home would be such an inconvenience. But it would be difficult to hide it from Nick…

" _Let's just hope she doesn't get hurt._ "

Nick's words from when they watched her work as Crossfire on the department store televisions suddenly rang through Judy's head. She blinked and frowned as she stepped forward to open her closet and stare at the black costume.

"Wish I could tell him," she mumbled to herself. "But I can't, can I?"

* * *

 _Day 6: Saturday, June 21_ _st_ _, 2016, 4:41 p.m._

* * *

_I can't convince them, can I?_

The previous night's meeting with the Den of Thieves ran through Nick's mind as he stabbed irritably at the scrambled eggs on the grill. Why had he thought he could even depend on those mammals in the first place? Otterton and those other missing predators—they represented an opportunity to make a real difference for everyone in the Den. Besides, after everything Otterton in particular had done—

With a suppressed growl, Nick pushed the eggs and bug burger patties around a little more roughly than necessary. There was nothing else to do but look into the matter himself, starting the second that he clocked out and could figure out an excuse to give Ju—

"Nick?"

Ear briefly twitching toward the sound of Judy's voice, Nick looked up to see the bunny peering at him over the service counter. He wasn't sure whether it was the lighting or his growing feelings that made her violet eyes seem especially brilliant, but either way, the sight was welcome. Not unlike the butter he casually tossed on the grill, his frustration melted as he met her gaze.

"May I help you, Carrots?" Nick replied with a smile that he barely noticed.

She handed him an order slip. "Table six has a nut allergy, so I wanted to make sure I gave this one to you personally."

In response, Nick accepted the slip and waved it lightly for a moment to indicate that he'd be careful with it. His eyes lowered to see how the food was coming along on the grill. After a moment, he realized that he hadn't heard Judy scamper away, and he looked up again to find her staring at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

 _Unreadable?_ Nick blinked.  _I can read_ any  _face…_

"Is something wrong, Carrots?" he queried, head tilting slightly as his spatula paw slowed to a pause.

Judy's lips parted slightly, her chest and shoulders rose, she balanced on her tiptoes, she took a small breath, and—

And then she relaxed and sent him a small smile. "No, I'm fine. Sorry, just got lost in thought."

With that, she turned and hurried away, though Nick noticed there was less bounce in her step than usual. His ears started to flatten against the back of his head before he stopped them, but he didn't remove her eyes from her retreating form until the pop of a grease bubble on a patty brought his attention back to the grill.

"I can't believe she actually lets you call her Carrots," Greg remarked beside him as he sliced the vegetables in preparation for the dinner rush.

Nick flicked a narrow-eyed glance toward him and his counter. " _I_  can't believe you've managed to make those diced tomatoes look so drunk."

"As if you could do better," Greg replied dryly.

Immediately, Nick set his spatula to the side and pulled a knife from the wooden block next to Greg's counter. He snatched up a tomato, held it firmly against the counter with one paw, and deftly cut the whole thing into a pile of perfect cubes. Then he tossed the knife into the sink and returned to the grill just in time to scoop the scrambled eggs onto a waiting plate before they got too brown.

Several seconds of silence passed among the mammals in the kitchen before Greg broke it.

"You okay today, Nick?" he asked. "You seem… kind of on edge."

"A bit," Nick shrugged without elaborating.

"Maybe we should call Judy back over here," Andy murmured from where he was seasoning an enormous pot of stew on the stove. "She always seems to cheer you right up, doesn't she?"

When he accentuated his comment with a smooching sound, Nick whipped his head sharply to fix him with a hard stare. To his satisfaction, the otter flinched a little, and Nick refrained from uttering any of the dozens of threats that popped into his mind.

The next time Judy approached to leave an order slip, Nick assumed an expression of total concentration toward the grill and carefully avoided looking up at her. He heard her linger for just a moment before walking away.

Then he pinched his nose and shook his head briefly at himself.  _Get yourself under control, Wilde._

With a sigh, he focused on the grill again, absentmindedly pushing and turning around the sizzling foods. His thoughts were on his costume and a certain black jaguar in the Rainforest District.

The rest of his shift trudged past him. A few minutes after 5:00, he was mildly surprised to find that he had put himself on autopilot and couldn't remember falling into step next to Judy on their way home. He was  _more_ surprised to turn his head to glance at her and see her staring up at him with worry lining her brows.

"What's on your mind, Nick?" she asked. "You seemed fine this morning, but now you're… tense."

The smile that Nick granted her wasn't entirely forced. Her genuine concern was touching. "I was just thinking about a friend who's been going through some trouble. Thought I might pay him a visit today."

"That's a nice thought," Judy smiled back. Her lips parted but didn't move in a moment of hesitation before she continued, and Nick told himself not to stare at them in the meantime. "I was actually thinking about doing something similar." Her eyelids fluttered as quickly as Nick's heart as she glanced downward and then back up at him. "But you want to have another movie night afterward?"

Nick hardly had to consider his answer. "Wouldn't miss it."

* * *

 

 _Day 6: Saturday, June 21_ _st_ _, 2016, 5:47 p.m._

* * *

"Huh, seems I missed him," Nick mumbled to himself as he knocked for the third time on Manchas's door.  _So much for asking him about the last time he saw Otterton._

Scratching the back of his neck with a sigh, he turned to head back to the train station—and paused abruptly when the sight of tangled brown stems and green leaves caught his attention.

With a blink, he stepped forward and stared at the potted plant half-hanging out the window. After absorbing and pondering it, he turned narrowed eyes back onto the house. He wriggled the doorknob, but the door stayed shut. It only took a moment for him to make his next decision.

 _Sorry, Manchas,_  he thought dryly to himself as he positioned himself underneath the fraction of the windowsill not covered by the plant, jumped, and pulled himself up.  _But I'm sure you'd understand_.

As soon as he landed and steadied himself on the floor, he surveyed the house, eyes widening. The potted plant that Nick noticed wasn't the only one that had been upturned; several of them were sprawled across the floor, dark soil and broken pieces of baked clay scattered around them. Furniture was in tatters. Cupboards hung open on single hinges, some splintered. A trail of viciously torn fruit trailed from the kitchen to the middle of the living room, and a few had been splattered against the walls. Huge claw marks were streaked across every hard surface. The lingering scent of jaguar told him that Manchas had been the only one here, as far as he could tell.

"Manchas," Nick whispered. "What happened to you?"

Silently, he wandered around the treehouse, instinctively raising himself on his toes even though he couldn't hear or smell any sign that he wasn't alone. A few minutes later, he realized that the claw marks on the floor led outside—out of the window through which he'd climbed.

Rather than bothering with the window again, Nick opted to simply open the front door, after which he studied the dock closely. Shaking his head, he wondered how he could've missed the scratch marks crisscrossing the wood. He followed them farther into the forest, ignoring the scheduled rain that started to pelt his fur as his eyes easily adjusted to the shadows beneath the canopy of leaves.

"Just keeps going on and on," he muttered to himself. "How far could he have—"

He realized he'd spoken too soon. The scratches abruptly stopped in the middle of a circular dock that branched out into several possible paths. Nick blinked in confusion, sniffing lightly for any hint as to where Manchas might have gone. There was nothing.

Brushing his claws around the fur on the back of his head, Nick turned himself around to get another look at the area. Almost absentmindedly, he glanced up, and the tiny gleam of glass caught his eye.

Finally, he smiled to himself.

* * *

 _Day 6: Saturday, June 21_ _st_ _, 2016, 6:58 p.m._

* * *

Frankly, the gravity of what Judy was doing was currently dwarfed by her astonishment that City Hall was even open on a Saturday. Such a thing would never happen in Bunnyburrow, but Zootopia was  _enormous_. Big city mammals had to do things a little differently, it seemed.

Still, she hadn't been able to bring herself to go inside yet. Instead, she leaned against the wall of an alley just across the street, hidden by both the shadows and her Crossfire costume. In her paw, she stared at the carrot pen, wherein she'd recorded the meeting from the Den of Thieves. All she had to do was sneak through the vents until she found Bellwether's office—a simple enough task, since she'd taken the time to memorize the building's layout—and then go home to wait for Nick.

She shook her head suddenly.  _Or I could do something_ besides  _wait for Nick,_  she reminded herself.  _Like… Like maybe…_

Sighing, she squeezed her eyes shut, hung her head, and smiled sardonically at herself.  _Who am I kidding? I just want to hang out with Nick._

When she opened her eyes again, they were greeted with the sight of orange plastic, ridges, and a small speaker. Once again, she gazed blankly at the carrot pen.

 _And the sooner I get this over with, the better_. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.  _So what's stopping me?_

The question dredged up her own words to the Hustler, letting them chime through her mind.  _"I think that they need to be treated like reasonable mammals who are capable of change before you just pass judgment on them and start destroying their lives."_

"But they tried to kill me," she mumbled tersely in response to herself. "They want to kill other mammals."

" _Whatever you think of it, that_ is  _my pack in there._ "

The fox's distorted voice reverberated in Judy's memory. She froze.

A pack. A pack of marginalized mammals. Desperate mammals.

Lowering the pen to her side, she suddenly realized what was keeping her there. True, disgust surged through her heart at the thought of their actions, but there was another emotion there, too—something softer and warmer.

Before she could name it, though, the sound of an alarm shrieking from the City Hall building jolted her from her ruminations. Her ear twitched when it picked up a crackle from the police scanner on her hip. Even for her excellent hearing, the volume and proximity of the alarm made it difficult to decipher the words spoken by the harried officer on the other end of the device.

But when she heard something about a fox dressed in black in the assistant mayor's office, she propelled herself forward with hardly a second thought.

A few mammals nearby pointed at her, mouths agape, as she hurdled across the busy street and toward the doors of the building. She pulled on the handle with a grunt, confused for a moment when it didn't budge. Remembering that the government buildings would automatically lock all their doors and windows when they were trying to keep a criminal from escaping, she clicked her tongue impatiently and headed for the nearest vent.

After several minutes of army-crawling through the dust of the ventilation shafts and willing herself to remain sane despite feeling like the shrill tone of the alarm was closing in around her, Judy managed to turn herself around enough to kick open the vent that she was sure would let her drop into Bellwether's office. It took a couple of tries, but it finally came loose and went crashing to the—

" _Ow!_ "

Judy's heart clambered to her throat. Slowly, and with her reddening cheeks blessedly hidden beneath her costume, she once again contorted herself around to peek out of the square-shaped hole where the vent had been. There, she found the Hustler, standing in front of a computer and irritably rubbing the back of his head while glaring at her through his colored goggles.

"Sorry," she grimaced before she could stop herself.

With a sigh and shake of his head, the Hustler focused his attention on the computer, typing at a rapid speed. "Figures. What are you doing here?" his voice grumbled metallically.

"I was in the area and heard on the police scanner that there was a disturbance," Judy replied in her deeper tone and farmer's accent as she jumped from the ventilation shaft to the floor. As she crouched to soften her landing, she paused to blink at him. "Wait, I don't owe you an explanation! Why are you causing trouble here?"

She could almost see the infuriating smirk as the Hustler turned his head toward her. "Well, look at that," he said, tone drenched with sarcastic amusement. "Trying to get to know a mammal before beating them up. That, my dear bunny, is what we call  _character development_."

"Har, har," Judy mocked him in return as she propped her paws on her hips. "At least you admit that I can beat you up. Why don't you give me a good reason not to?"

"Well, my fellow vigilante—"

"You're a criminal, not a vigilante."

"A criminal with a specific agenda. A vigilante."

"No, you're  _not,_  we are  _not_ —"

" _Anyway_ , my fellow vigilante, I'm actually trying to find out what happened to a friend of mine," the Hustler explained calmly but assertively, pressing on one last key with a flourish and then watching as the screen in front of him zeroed in on a circular dock in the Rainforest District.

Judy approached to stand at his side, studying the screen curiously. "A friend? What do you mean?"

It took a moment for the Hustler to decide to answer. "Since you were poking your little bunny nose into the Den's business last night, I'm sure you heard that some of us are concerned about all the missing predators lately. I went to visit someone today who might have known something about them, but he wasn't there. I followed his tracks here, but they disappeared, so now…"

To finish his thought, he simply gestured at the screen. Looking closer, Judy noticed the claw marks on the dock and gasped.

"So you're checking out the jam cams? That's… actually really smart."

The words had left her mouth before she could ponder the implications of encouraging a criminal in his work, but there was something charming about the way his eyes crinkled to indicate that he was smiling underneath his mask when he looked down at her.

"Listening to police scanners and riding on the coattails of someone else's quick thinking?" he said, leaning forward slightly, almost conspiratorially. "You know, I think you might actually make a pretty good hustler."

Despite herself, Judy laughed. "Ugh, how dare you."

The sound of shouts made both their ears swivel in the direction of the door, which she only then observed was locked  _and_ had a chair positioned against the handle to keep it from turning. The shouts on the other side grew steadily louder.

"The police," she breathed. A higher-pitched voice urgently mingled with theirs. "And Bellwether." She glanced at the fox. "Did you steal her clearance to get access to the jam cams?"

But the Hustler wasn't allowing himself to be distracted. He was already clicking on the mouse to rewind the camera footage. After just a few seconds, Judy gasped upon seeing a writhing, snarling jaguar rush onto the screen. His nostrils flared wildly when it seemed that he caught a whiff of something. Then a pair of wolves crept into view, approaching from either side, aiming at him with guns that Judy vaguely remembered seeing somewhere before. The jaguar jerked around between them, as though not sure which threat to destroy first. When a net burst out of one of the guns, Judy realized where she'd seen one—the Hustler had used one on her not too long ago.

The memory instantly refilled her with the rage, dread, and humiliation that had engulfed her at the time. Fists suddenly clenching, she whirled toward the fox.

"Hustler!" she hissed at him, but he didn't acknowledge her. "It's nice that you're concerned about the missing mammals, but I still—"

" _Shush_ ," the Hustler commanded, placing a finger over her mouth while keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the computer screen.

Fuming, Judy slapped the finger away. "If you  _ever_ do that again, I  _swear_ I will—"

With one frustrated movement, the Hustler jabbed a key to make the video pause as he turned toward her. "Hate to keep interrupting, I know it's rude, but I really need you to let me concentrate here, little bunny. This is more important than your sweet little all-crime-is-equal philosophy."

"I never said that all crime is equal!" Judy nearly squealed her indignation. "I'm just trying to make the city safer for everyone! And don't you think I'm concerned about the missing mammals, too?"

"Are you?" the Hustler replied curtly. "Because I know that all you're thinking about right now is how to keep me here to get caught."

"How did you even get in here with Bellwether's clearance?" Judy demanded, then suddenly stiffened. "Did you hurt her?"

The question seemed to offend the fox more than anything else she had ever said. Judy almost recoiled guiltily when his shoulders straightened as he narrowed his eyes at her. His tone was shockingly cold. "No. I didn't." Suddenly, he crossed his arms and went on accusingly. "But for someone who's so concerned about a little old criminal like me going around and hurting mammals, you sure love hurting them yourself."

"I—I don't—" Judy's mind stumbled as her mind woefully agreed with his observation of her double standard. She took a breath. "I don't  _love_ hurting mammals. I want to protect them."

"So do I," the Hustler said tersely. After a moment, he softened his stance, briefly sweeping his eyes from the top of her ears toward her toes. "Look, maybe we don't agree about each other's methods, but we do agree about protecting those who need it. Why don't we call a truce?" He extended a paw toward her. "Help me find the missing mammals. What do you say?"

Judy stared dumbly at his paw for a few seconds before pounding at the door provoked her to jump to her side. Her hip collided with the desk; losing her balance, she flailed in the air and grabbed the fox's paw, desperately pulling him toward her.

Only when her mind cleared away its panic a moment later did she realize that she had yanked the fox into a hug with her, her cheek pressed against his chest.

His deep, throaty chuckle charged her blood with both rage and… something like lightning. A thrill?

"I'll take that as a yes," the Hustler said, then gently laid his paws on her shoulders and pushed her away from him. "But that's enough hugging, okay?" He gestured toward the computer. "How about we watch the rest of this footage before they break the door down and then get out of here?"

"I…" Judy glanced away for a moment. "But I haven't  _actually_  said yes."

The fox tilted his head at her. "Well, you're not going to say no at this point, are you? I mean, we've bonded and everything."

Bellwether's screeching voice startled Judy again, though she managed to stand her ground. "If you think you're going to win this fight, Hustler, you'd better think again!"

She turned her attention back to the Hustler when he grabbed her shoulders, urgency in his voice.

"Look, we really don't have time to think about this," he said. "Truce or no?"

Locking her gaze with his, a single thought flashed through Judy's mind—how terrible it would feel to see that fox's eyes staring at her from behind bars. Abruptly, she realized that her decision had already been made. It was an appalling offense against her sense of reason and morality, but…

 _He's right. We're not really_ that  _different._

"I can hardly believe I'm saying this," she sighed. "But I'll do you one better than a truce. We'll be a  _team_."

Again, the Hustler's eyes creased, and Judy knew he was smiling.

But he didn't waste any more time with words. He quickly pivoted and pressed a key to play the footage again, fast-forwarding it as the pounding on the door intensified. Judy flinched when she heard the doorframe splinter around the latch, but she tried to focus on the computer. The wolves had loaded the jaguar into a van and were driving through the Zootopia tunnels. The Hustler expertly followed them by switching from camera to camera. Strangely, however, after entering one tunnel, the van didn't reappear out of it.

"Wait, what?" Judy exclaimed, leaning closer to the screen. "Where did they go?"

"Probably the maintenance tunnel 6B," the Hustler said as he made a few clicks to view the footage from a different camera. "No one uses it, hardly anybody knows about it—yep, yep, there they are."

Judy followed his pointing finger to watch the van turn into the very tunnel that the fox had mentioned. She tilted her head. "Huh. What a detective you are."

The Hustler shrugged. "Any mammal who's lived on the streets would have known about it."

His comment sent ice crawling into Judy's heart. She glanced at him slowly. "You mean you've—"

"Look where they're heading," the fox interjected, and Judy looked back at the screen with a sigh. "Out of town. I've never been out there before, but hey, I'm up for a little adventure." He switched the computer off and winked at her. "Are you?"

There was no time for Judy to ask herself why she was blushing now. The doorframe was loosening more with every blow from the officers on the other side. There's no way it would hold much longer.

She nodded at the fox and answered confidently. "Always."

He nodded back as he swept past her and toward the vent. "So let's get out of here."

Spurred by a surge of excitement, Judy grinned, leaped up, kicked herself against the wall above the Hustler's head, and landed squarely inside the vent. Judging by the Hustler's stunned stance, he was both surprised and impressed, a fact that drew an immensely pleased grin onto her face. She lay on her stomach and reached her paw toward him.

Shaking his head, he grabbed it and managed to scramble up into the vent with her help.

They had already cleared a dozen feet before they heard the door slam to the floor, hinges and latch clattering. The frustrated sounds of the police and Bellwether herself echoed around the walls of the vent. The bunny and the fox allowed themselves a quiet laugh together as they made their way toward daylight.

* * *

 **Special thanks to my husband for the line about snoring like an "adorable, shy little tea kettle," because he told me once that that's what** _**I** _ **do.**

**We are still married.**

**Also, for anyone who doesn't know, the lines "This is an environment of welcoming, and you should just get the hell out of here" and "I've always been your biggest flan" are both from** _**The Office** _ **.**


End file.
